


At the shore of the heart where I have roots

by Liaeling



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liaeling/pseuds/Liaeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say love is found through losing oneself in another. If that’s the case, losing oneself in the absence of another is the path to finding love again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic for this fandom, and this time around it's a long one.  
> I'd like to say that this fic means a lot to me, not because it's my best one but because I'd been suffering of a writer's block for more than a year and this was the fic that helped me get out of it. If you've ever suffered from writer's block, you'll understand.
> 
> English is not my first language, so please ignore the couple of syntactic mistakes you may find in this work.
> 
> So, now I leave you with the fruit of my sleepless nights. I really appreciate comments, so if you like this or you hate it, please don't hesitate to express it.

 

Bradley couldn’t quite understand it.

 

Yes, he was aware of the fact that he had fucked up, but he hadn’t meant it. In his own defense, he was half drunk and terribly mad at Colin. It hadn’t meant a thing, and he truly had been pushed to do it. And it wasn’t even the first time it had happened. Still, he couldn’t understand why Colin didn’t even explain himself or talked to him about it.

 

He was the expressive one in this relationship. He had always been. He was the one who flirted first, the one who forgot about personal space first and yes, he was the one who – against all prejudices anyone may have on him – romantically declared his love to Colin on a summer night by the light of the full moon next to a large window on the south coast of France. Colin had never forgotten that moment and he loved to remind Bradley of that, especially when he wanted to make fun of him for being a “sentimental pixie”.

 

Colin was the cold side of the bed, not literally thank goodness. That would have been necrophilia – and a very passionate one indeed – and Bradley was not that kind of romantic, thank you very much.

 

Bradley was the one who woke up Colin with a kiss; he was the one who wrapped his arms around him while he was washing the dishes and hummed the “Ghost” theme song while reaching for Colin’s hands and mimicking his movements. He was the love struck idiot with a tendency to kiss his partner out of the blue and say “I love you” just for a pair of pancakes cooked by Colin.

 

The Northern Irishman, shy and cynic at the same time, almost always replied with a smile, a roll of his eyes or by blowing a kiss only to laugh later. Colin was the one who turned his back on Bradley on the bed so he could spoon against him, and the one who showered with semi-cold water on winter secretly – or that’s what he thought – so Bradley could enjoy his long warm baths on the tub.

 

Colin was the complacent one without being boastful, unlike Bradley.

 

He had a thousand secret smiles and really dark days, with moods so hard to comprehend that Bradley had stopped trying all together and simply let him be on those days. He was the one who, once a month, pinned Bradley down on the mattress without a word of warning or a reason and fucked him hard until he saw stars. Bradley always tried to make up for that night the rest of the month, and judging by Colin’s moans in the deep of the night followed irrevocably by incessant mumbling – more like chanting – of Bradley’s name, he was sure he was pretty good at paying Colin back for the pleasure bestowed on him once a month.

 

Bradley was the one who loved to eat take-away, and Colin was the one who loved cooking. In practical terms, that was more than fine with Bradley, as long as Colin cooked a vegan _and_ a bloody meaty dinner.

 

Bradley made sure the lights were out and the door locked before going to sleep and Colin was the one who waited on his side of the bed to warm it up for him.

 

They complemented each other entirely and for that same reason, Bradley couldn’t understand what was happening now. It made no sense, it had no logic.

 

Suddenly, everything he thought he knew about Colin, everything he thought he knew about _them_ was on the spotlight, waiting to be questioned and beaten by the bad cop in Bradley’s mind.

 

He couldn’t quite understand it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. To understand is to accept, and he couldn’t accept this, not _this._

 

“I’m sorry, Bradley” repeated Colin, a stray tear running down his left cheek as he tried to catch his quickened breath. It was the same breath he had longed to feel by his side on the dinner party they had just returned from.

 

His eyes were shining with unshed tears and Bradley couldn’t help but think that they were beautiful. His gaze was full of sorrow, pity, anger at himself and confusion. It was the most beautiful gaze Bradley had ever encountered. If the situation had been different, he would have fallen in love all over again with Colin.

 

“You’re… _sorry_?” Bradley had to swallow between words, trying to calm his breath and his heartbeat. This was not happening. He had plans. He had expectations and a whole vegan menu on his head for their anniversary, and that was more than six months away. He had _dreams_ , for god’s sake.

 

“I can’t do this anymore. I just… can’t”. Colin closed his eyes as he finished the sentence, letting the silence reign.

 

He was standing under the same light bulb Bradley had changed two days before, under the light Bradley had fixed after days on end of Colin cursing every time he came home and switched the light on, only to find no light at all.

 

He was standing on the little brown door mat Bradley had bought to put outside the front door, but Colin liked too much and ended putting inside of it.

 

For _fuck’s sake,_ he was even wearing Bradley’s blue hoodie.

 

This was too much, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

 

Before Colin could say anything, or do anything, Bradley lifted his right arm and pointed to the door right behind the love of his life. He had to avert his gaze from him; he couldn’t look at him anymore. Colin was gazing intently at him, he could feel it. Right before turning away, he saw the hurt in his eyes, overriding all the emotions behind his tears. He wasn’t sure if the hurt he saw was the reflection of his own feelings or not.

 

He felt insignificant, trying to find a reason to beg for him to stay and finding none. He had done everything wrong and even if he couldn’t understand it completely, he knew it was his fault and his fault alone.

 

All those fights had led them here. Turning back was not an option now.

 

There he was, right in front of him, the light of his past three years and a half… but Bradley had to do it. He whispered one word without a tinge of remorse, knowing full well that he was the reason this situation had come to pass.

 

“Leave.”

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

_“The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.”_

_―_ _[Victor Hugo](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13661.Victor_Hugo), [Les Misérables](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3208463)_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _\------------_

_Five years earlier_

Walking down the aisle when he was four years old had been easier. He had been an apprentice altar boy then and he had been terrified to walk behind Father Reid. But then again, he had been next to other three apprentices, and behind two older, experienced altar boys.

 

He could still remember the pungent smell of incense that made his eyes water. The Christ was looming slowing before him, behind the back of Father Reid and the taller altar boys, and on his four year old mind he found him frightening.

 

It’s curious how we associate certain things in our pasts with our present. But, after all, it had been easier to walk down the aisle back then.

 

Right now, Colin’s legs were trembling, his hands were sweaty and he was pretty sure his grasp on the script was going to leave serious paper cuts later. Before him, a short corridor with white washed walls extended, ending in a brown plain door. Surely, not as terrifying as the crucified Christ illuminated from below by tall candles.

 

“This is definitely more terrifying” whispered Colin to himself, clutching the script against his chest.

 

He breathed. In, out. And in and out again.

 

It was the chance of a lifetime and this was the beginning… or the end. No pressure, just the last decisive audition that could change his life forever. He had been called here, that had to mean something. They hay liked his tape, they had liked his curriculum, they had liked his face and he was aware that it was not a splendidly handsome face, just a plain one. They had liked the first two auditions. It had to mean _something_.

 

He took a deep breath, the fifth one to be exact, and took the first step towards the door.

 

 _It takes more courage to take a first step, than to climb back up the abyss,_ was his last thought as he opened the door and smiled.

 

 

Two hours later, he closed that same door behind him and dropped the smile in disbelief, only to lift it up again two seconds later. He was out of himself, out of this world and into a world of possibilities. New doors, new adventures, new _life_.

 

He was so deep into his own happiness that it took him ten seconds to realize he was still smiling like a maniac and he was face to face with a man.

He blinked and took a second to look over the man. He was looking at him quizzically, almost worried; he had a script on his hands and a mobile phone on the other. He had blonde hair and a slightly petulant – no, more like childishly laid back – countenance. He couldn’t help but notice that the man had to be a sport type of man. He had strong legs and square shoulders.

 

It took Colin one second to check all these points, but when he met the man’s gaze he forgot about it all. He had blue eyes, but not the kind of blue he expected. It was a metamorphic blue. Neither azure, nor cyan. He couldn’t quite find a shade for that color. And he had a kind gaze, almost like a child, but not entirely. For a moment he could see that kindness, but only for a moment. Suddenly, it transformed and became a cold arrogant stare. He looked away embarrassed, aware of the fact that this person was judging him.

 

He had always found it important to notice a person’s gaze on a first meeting. His mother had scolded him as a child for it, saying that it was rude to stare into a stranger’s eyes for no reason. Eight year old Colin had answered with a line he had read on one of his father’s books: “By meeting gazes instead of glances, strangers become acquaintances, enemies become friends and romantic spirits become lovers”. In this case, he couldn’t quite classify this stranger’s gaze in any of these options.

 

“Excuse me, I have an appointment with the producers”, said the man suddenly, raising his eyebrows and pointing nonchalantly at the door behind Colin.

 

“Oh, right, sorry”, answered Colin as he stepped aside, a slightly forced smile upon his lips. “Good luck with the audition”.

 

The man frowned and stared at Colin. No, more precisely, he stared at Colin’s mouth. For a second, Colin didn’t know what to do. Did he have something between his teeth? Let not that be the answer, because he had just had his final audition face to face with the producers and he would die of embarrassment if he did.

 

No, the man was staring… almost confused. Like his mouth was a new found element in Earth. Colin was sure his mouth was not as different as any other mouth.

 

Before he had time to question the stranger’s gaze, the blonde walked passed him quickly and opened the door, disappearing behind it without so much as a “thanks”. Right before the door closed he was sure he heard him whisper “that’s not even English”.

 

Colin stood there for a moment, confused as to the meeting with this blonde man and his last words. He didn’t know if he had been rude in some way or if this guy was just an asshole. After a moment’s hesitation he realized it was the second option. Sure, the Northern Irish accent was, let’s say, different but it was not Russian.

 

He shrugged and smiled again after a moment. Not his problem anyway, that asshole wouldn’t change the fact that he _did_ it. He was alone again on the corridor and he was ecstatic. He had to get out of there and call his parents, his brother, his friends and everyone on his contact list _right now_.

 

After all, not every day you get to boast of getting the lead role in the BBC’s next drama series.

 

As he walked towards the lift, recalling how he had nearly passed out next to it a couple of hours ago, a sudden realization hit him.

 

He was going to play Merlin. He was really going to play the mythical warlock of the books his father used to read to him on cold winter nights by the hearth. But he was not going to play an old man; he was going to be a young, naïve Merlin newly introduced to Camelot. And, as the producers had told him, they had almost everything arranged. The role of Prince Arthur had been cast and they reassured him it was the perfect man for the role. They explained to him the importance of the relationship between the two characters and the variations on the myths. They told him about the “banter” aspect, the comedy side of the show.

 

He was excited, very excited. He couldn’t wait to meet his soon-to-be coworker and talk about all the aspects of the characters and their relationship.

 

It had potential, this show was going to be great, and he knew he could do it.

 

As he pressed the lift button to the lobby, a second realization hit him. He remembered all those illustrations his father showed him, and that movie he had watched growing up. Merlin in the pointy hat on a cartoon version, next to a boy with blonde hair.

 

Suddenly, right before the doors of the lift closed, he heard a sudden peal of laughter. Loud, easy going laughter coming at least from three persons behind the brown door. He could picture the producers sitting across the table from the man with the blonde hair, laughing easily.

 

As the doors clicked shut, he had to rest his head against the back wall of the lift as his mood changed for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes.

 

He closed his eyes and sighed, suddenly realizing the obvious. He had just met the blonde asshole who appeared on his script under the title of “Prince Arthur”.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Nobody told Bradley how terrifying it would be.

 

Sure, they tell you all about the nice parts in the movies, books, television series, even on the newspapers sometimes. They talk about meeting the right person, about getting to know their nice side, about falling in love and wanting to share everyday with them. But they never mention the dark side. What about the time wasting task of caring for someone only to be betrayed, left behind or simply abandoned?

 

Yes, that is painful, but it’s not the most painful part.

 

The most painful part is opening the door one day, the same door of the same place you shared with that person, the one that made you smile and cry and smile again. The most painful part is the silence.

 

The silence cuts, and as you begin to grow accustomed to it, trying to make as much noise as possible to keep it at bay, something entirely new appears. And this time it’s not pain, it’s even worse. It’s _panic_. Sheer, raw panic accompanied by nausea and the eternal denial.

 

Bradley had to lean on the kitchen counter to regain balance.

 

It had been a week. A week since Colin walked through the front door, leaving behind his toothbrush on the bathroom sink, two books on the coffee table in the living room and a pair of socks on the back of the washing machine.

 

He also left behind on top of the refrigerator one of his old ‘Merlin’ scripts, scribbled on the edges with commentaries by both Colin and Bradley, or as the corrected script read, Mergay and Prathur. On the last page of the script, Bradley had drawn a small castle and Colin had filled it with small stick figures.

 

Bradley was hyperventilating, clutching the kitchen counter and trying to suppress the need to turn his head towards the fridge. He had to take that script and burn it. Or put it on an altar. Or cut his throat open with it.

 

Colin was everywhere, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the bathroom. He had left tangible things, and the simple existence of those things made Bradley want to stop trying altogether.

 

Every day, as he prepared his breakfast he had to turn away to stop his gaze from falling on the script. Every time he brushed his teeth he had to look towards the ceiling to stop himself from looking at Colin’s toothbrush. If he cared to watch some TV on his living room, he had to sit on the floor so he could stop from ogling the books on the coffee table.

 

And every time he went to sleep he had to bury his face in his pillow to stop himself from turning around to search for _him_. For his warmth, for his breath, for his quiet “Good night, Brad”s or his whispered “I love you”s.

 

It had been a week, and here Bradley was, on a Friday night clutching the kitchen counter, trying to slow down his breathing to prevent another anxiety attack.

 

If he could get through the night without throwing up again, he might start to believe things would get better… eventually.

 

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_“Let me silent be,_

_For silence is the speech of love,_

_The music of the spheres above.”_

 

 – _Richard Henry Stoddard, Speech of Love_

__

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Four years, seven months earlier_

Colin was perplexed, tired, confused and mad at himself.

 

It had been two months since he got the part. Two months since he had shed his skin and taken on a new mind. He was Merlin now, and the glimpses of Colin between takes were barely there.

 

He understood, better than anyone, how it felt to be lost inside a character. But this… this was getting ridiculous.

 

Two months ago he had met, by chance, a blonde man on a deserted hallway. Anyone would have thought that, after a series of multiple read-throughs, “bonding time” and long, uncomfortable travels from England to Wales, things would have developed between them. Yes, Colin was Northern Irish, shy and a little bit dark humored, but that didn’t make him an alien.

 

He had tried, seriously tried and for him that was a very huge step.

 

Bradley was charming, really. Charming for the first five minutes you met him, and then, around minute eight and a half, he became a pain in the ass.

 

He was boisterous, loud, self-centered and honest to the point of rudeness. He was everything Colin had never been and had never liked. Colin was peaceful, quiet, kind to other people and honest to the point of staying-silent-before-saying-Bradley-was-very-annoying, which meant his honesty was private and very rarely shared out loud.

 

Bradley was all over the place, talking to everyone, trying to make everyone laugh and often failing not for lack of humor, but for lack of knowledge about personal boundaries and/or respect for other people’s moods.

 

Colin, on the other hand, had been taught since birth to be attentive but never pushy, helpful but never overbearing.

 

In all aspects, they were complete opposites.

 

The blonde athletic man with a need for attention against the black haired scrawny man with a need for privacy.

 

Two months in and Colin couldn’t understand why the producers had decided they were to be co-workers. And not just co-workers, but the two leading characters in the series. And not just any leading characters, but Arthur and Merlin. _The_ Arthur and Merlin, the ones who are supposed to be together all the time.

 

On the legends, they are close colleagues so to speak, but according to Johnny and Julian’s adaptation for the series, they were to be close _everything_. Arthur was the pompous Prince who hated the cheeky peasant he met by chance on a courtyard and Merlin was the cocky peasant who hated the pompous Prince he dared to stand up to on that same courtyard. And yes, Johnny and Julian were genius, they had to appoint his character to be Arthur’s manservant, and that meant sharing 95% of the scenes with Mr. Pompous Arthur / Mr. Rudeness, also known as I-don’t-understand-a-word-you’re-saying, Bradley.

 

Genius, honestly.

 

But of course, Colin never said a word. Of course he knew his new life, his new job was not going to be perfect but he wished it had been easier. If only Bradley was more reserved, more in touch with his thoughts instead of with his actions, things would have been different.

 

Colin hadn’t meant to be so closed up, he hadn’t really, but it was his nature. Every time Bradley came close to him he felt the need to build up another story on the mile high wall surrounding his privacy.

 

He still remembered the first read-through with Bradley. For a moment, he actually thought Johnny and Julian would say “That’s great guys, but this show is not going to work because you’re so incompatible.”

 

Or at least, for a moment, he had wished for that. After the fourth time Bradley had asked him to repeat a line, to be more exact. Right between that moment and the moment when he turned to Julian and mouthed “Is it really English?”

 

He hadn’t hated Bradley back then, but he had been close.

 

“Hey, Morgan, care to join me and Katie on the catering tent? This down time is boring and they said it would take them at least another hour to set the cameras right.”

 

Colin was brought out of his reverie and/or harakiring himself for being horrible at socializing with his co-star by none other than Bradley.

He was standing in front of him, barely a step before him, with a tentative smile upon his face. Colin couldn’t quite comprehend how he had got so near him without him noticing it.

 

On the first days of knowing Bradley, Colin had tried to send him signals every time he felt attacked on his personal space. He had tried stepping back and lowering his head, he had tried feigning a cough to draw back from him and he had tried scratching his arm with an uncomfortable face as he leaned away from Bradley. Apparently, either the Englishman didn’t care or he honestly didn’t catch Colin’s attempts of regaining ground on his personal space. After all, people had always told Colin he was too subtle.

 

And here he was, two months later, still attacking his idea of “comfortable space between acquaintances”.

 

“I think I’ll pass, they only have desserts left and they all have milk on them.” Colin answered, unconsciously taking a step back.

 

Bradley’s face changed instantly. His smile fell and he frowned. For a moment, Colin thought he saw a bit of a kicked puppy in Bradley’s expression.

 

“Milk is amazing, why would you deny a dessert with milk?” Bradley uttered with all seriousness, his expression mildly annoyed now.

 

“I’m lactose intolerant. Sorry, can’t”. Colin smiled apologetically out of reflex as he said it.

 

Suddenly, Bradley looked horror-stricken. His eyed rounded and his eyebrows rose. He didn’t utter a word for the space – Colin had to write it down, it was a record – of five seconds.

 

On second number six – Colin was really counting – he threw his head back, clapped and laughed.

 

Over the two months of acquaintance with Bradley, Colin had learned two things: one, Bradley loved to talk about nothing, pure babbling at walls sometimes; and two, Bradley loved to laugh.

 

Colin had met his various laughter from afar. He had an open-mouthed laugh, closed mouth snicker, stupidly high pitched giggle and from time to time, when he was especially amused, a ritual. It normally started with a two second pause, followed by the throw of his head back, a single clap with both hands, followed immediately by a boisterous laugh.

 

This was the kind of laugh he presented to Colin now. It was a first time.

 

Colin was astonished. He hadn’t even made a joke.

 

After a couple of seconds, during which Bradley’s chest shook with his laughter, he stopped laughing, lowered his head and looked towards Colin, only to add with a smile on his face.

 

“You’re pathetic, Morgan. Life without milk is like a woman without boobs.”

 

And after uttering this, he turned around and walked away, already calling Katie’s name on top of his lungs.

 

Colin stood glued to his spot.

 

He couldn’t quite comprehend his feelings. He was either shocked at being a reason for Bradley’s special laugh, offended at being laughed at for being lactose intolerant, outraged at Bradley’s sexist semi-joke or terribly perplexed at the level of misery he felt rising at the moment he pictured his contract signed for five seasons.

 

He closed his eyes and silently made a promise to himself, standing there in the middle of the studio, surrounded by crew members going crazy about camera calibrations.

 

_From this moment on, until I find at least one positive likable thing about Bradley James, I shall remain silent in his presence. To this I vow, under pain of death._

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up had become a challenge for Bradley. Opening his eyes and blinking, trying to understand where he was and what he was doing awake was the ritual every morning.

 

The sunlight filtrating through the curtains pained him. The dust dancing in the light had mutated from silent witnesses to empty companions.

 

He remembered the times he used to wake up next to Colin. He would always wake first, out of habit probably. The first year it had been the other way around, but after that Sunday morning when he woke up by accident, turned around and beheld Colin sleeping peacefully next to him, he made himself wake up every day before his partner.

 

Colin slept on his belly when he didn’t feel like letting Bradley spoon with him, and he would always end up either pressed to Bradley’s side or, on the days when he felt particularly calm, half on top of him. He would wake in the middle of the night to whisper Bradley’s name between dreams and let his head fall on his lover’s shoulder, hand quickly darting across his belly to wrap him in a half-hug. The first times Colin did this, Bradley had trouble reencountering sleep. He would stay awake, feeling the rise and fall of Colin’s chest pressed on his side, relishing in the feeling of his breath against his neck. The simple presence of him deprived him of sleep. Over the course of months, he had grown accustomed to it and sleep came fairly quick, but the habit of waking before him haunted him even now.

 

Bradley looked towards the alarm clock. It marked 8:15 a.m. He knew this meant Colin was still sleeping, wherever he was, and Bradley was awake before him, even now. On Saturdays and Sundays, the Northern Irishman would always wake at 8:30, without a change. It was his routine; he used to tell him whenever he remarked on it. His father used to wake him up as a child so he could help him cook breakfast for the family. To repay what his mother did all week long, he would sacrifice the early hours of his weekend.

He fought the urge to turn around and look for him. He knew he wouldn’t find him there. Realization had come at last, after two months of waking up in panic, trying to find the warmth that wasn’t there.

That didn’t mean it was easier. It just meant he understood the emptiness now.

 

He understood the hole in his chest, and the lack of motivation. Misery was his companion now, and the only happiness he could grasp was the one he found in his reminiscences.

 

He was alone; he had come to terms with that.

 

Every morning he would wake up to make a cup of tea instead of two, to pour himself some cereal and milk instead of trying to cook pancakes with soy milk. He would shower and put some clothes on without trying to find his shirt in Colin’s drawers, where he had haphazardly thrown it without meaning to. He would sigh, catching himself mid-phrase before going out the door, realizing that if he called out to Colin and asked if he needed something from the convenient store, only silence would reply.

 

Bradley had learned to replace bananas with apples in the fruit bowl, remembering he never liked bananas anyway, and the one who did was not around to eat them anymore.

Over the past two months, he had learned that to diminish the pain, he had to bring down what he had built with Colin. He had to destroy what they had created together.

 

He tried every day. And everyday he went to bed at night, turned off the lights, got under the sheets and turned around, blindly trying to find his lover… and realized he had failed.

 

He knew he had assimilated the situation and the only feeling he got through that assimilation was terrible, unfathomable emptiness. His skin was not his, his breath was not his, and no matter what he did, he felt like he would never be the same one again.

 

Waking up on a Sunday morning at 8:15 a.m., sighing and wondering why he did this to himself, Bradley thought he may soon find a way to live his life again. Or maybe, just maybe, he never would.

 

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“In all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.”_

_  
―[Carl Sagan](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10538.Carl_Sagan)_

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Four years earlier_

Colin was crushed in a bear hug. He was battling with himself in a semi-intoxicated state and he couldn’t place his thoughts on the right track. He either felt like running away or like hugging back, at the moment he couldn’t quite decide.

 

Over the past month he had felt a tingling sensation on the pit of his stomach, and now, being crushed in hug, he felt it twice as strong. For a moment, he felt utterly empty, yet full. Almost like floating through space. He sure hoped it was the alcohol, but he knew hope is for the blind man who won’t dare accept his reality.

 

He felt empty and he knew he was doomed.

 

Either way, he had to react in some way, and ended laughing loudly, pint of beer on his right hand, left arm trapped under the bear hug.

 

They were in a pub in Compiègne, season 1 had been wrapped the day before and they were preparing – or as Bradley had put it “pre-intoxicating” – themselves for the wrap party in one of the local pubs in the village nearest Pierrefonds.

 

Katie, Angel, Bradley and Colin were the only ones left behind in the minuscule pub. Some crew members had joined them for a pint or two, Tony had asked for water and retired around 10 p.m. by simply saying “Alcohol for the young, sex for the old”. Colin had been trying to erase that phrase from his mind, along with the image of Tony’s partner, lovely Sarah, waiting for him back in the hotel. Luckily, Richard had declined the invitation. Colin adored and respected Richard beyond words, and he would have denied a drop of alcohol in front of him.

 

It was 1 a.m., and the four younger cast members where alone. Somewhere along the way, Katie and Angel had retired together to the loo, giggling drunkenly along the way. That had left Colin and Bradley alone, and somehow that lead to the present situation.

 

Colin kept laughing at Bradley’s bear hug, aware of the fact that it was the first one he had allowed. Also aware that if he wasn’t semi-drunk, he would never had.

 

If someone had asked Colin six months ago if he considered Bradley a friend he would have laughed and said “no”, only to blush later and apologize. He was cynical but not rude after all.

 

Six months ago, Colin had preferred silence over idle talk with Bradley. Being bullied constantly led to that, at least on someone like Colin.

 

Not even on his wildest dreams would he have considered the possibility of becoming friends with Mr. Real Prat. Nor would he ever have thought of staying up at night, remembering the way the sunlight reflected on his blonde hair.

 

“You know, Col” said Bradley, suddenly breaking the hug, but letting his arm linger over Colin shoulders, “the first time I saw you, I thought you had an amazing face. Weird, but amazing”.

 

Colin was tipsy, and walking back from the bar to their boot with a newly bought pint and Bradley’s arms slung across his shoulder was not an easy task. Add to that the fact that Bradley just called his face “weird, but amazing”, doubling the fussy feeling he felt in his chest.

 

He still couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment when he began to see Bradley in a different light. The first three months of filming had been terribly uncomfortable for Colin, and later he understood that they were probably for Bradley too.

 

They had started to waltz without understanding the rhythm. Two opposite personalities had been thrown into a pit and were expected to find common ground. Those first three months had been filled with uncomfortable silences, attempts at joking by Colin received by Bradley with astonishment and hesitation, repeated violations of Colin’s personal space and privacy by Bradley and unending misunderstandings thanks to Mr. James’ inability to understand Colin’s accent.

 

Filming had been slow and painful. Bradley forgot his lines again and again; Colin wanted to re-shoot scenes where he thought he wasn’t good enough, and the combination of these two facts drove them both crazy. Colin couldn’t understand why Bradley didn’t memorize his lines, and Bradley couldn’t understand Colin’s definition of a “good scene”.

 

Colin had understood and he had tried to change. He wasn’t sure Bradley had tried that, too. Sometimes he thought Bradley relished in making him miserable.

 

Somewhere along month #5, a gradual change began to occur. At first, Colin thought it was the heat of the summer on high August on a French village. He also thought that Bradley had finally driven Angel, Katie and Tony off the wall. The gradual change was that Bradley began to spend more time around him. Not just bullying him or trying to catch the meaning of his words, but truly talking to him.

 

He could still recall the day when he realized the tactic Bradley had been applying from the start to socialize with him. It was August 18th, a Monday. They had been shooting the day before for schedule reasons, and the producers had given the cast Monday off to repay for the lost lazy Sunday. It was 4:00 p.m. and Colin’s air conditioner had broken down suddenly. He had called reception, and they had explained to him in broken English that a repairman would be called, but would probably arrive the next day. “Busy in summer”, was the receptionist short answer to Colin’s questioning. After that, he had lasted no more than 15 minutes inside his room, until he finally took the script he had been studying for the past half an hour and went out to the main hallway.

 

The hallway was protected with shadows, the sun was up on the other side and Colin was grateful for the fact that at least he wouldn’t roast, maybe he would just melt. He stood for a minute considering his options. He could go to the main lobby and claim an armchair. He would have air conditioner then, but not the peace and quiet required for study of his script. He could also go to the lobby and maybe ask to use the conference room, but he wasn’t sure they would turn on the air conditioner for him, not even out of pity. They were French after all. “Power to the people” say the French, but only to the French people apparently. As he was considering another option, he heard the door to his right open. It was the room next to his, and it was Bradley’s.

 

Out came the Englishman, clad only in football shorts. He was bare-chested, barefoot and his hair was a mess. He was carrying the hotel ice bucket, and he looked cooler than a winter night in Armagh to Colin.

 

As he closed his door, he caught a glimpse of Colin and frowned. He simply turned towards Colin and asked “What’s wrong?”

 

Apparently, the envy was painted on Colin’s face. Or maybe it was just the sweat that got his shirt stuck to his chest.

 

“My air conditioner just broke down”, said Colin, smiling sarcastically.

 

Bradley threw his head back and laughed, to Colin’s delight. He had grown fond of that laugh, he had to admit. Over the past month it had been one of the ice breakers in some of their chats.

 

“Well, don’t just stand there! Go get me some ice so we can drink some nice, cool water in my air conditioned room!” he said almost Arthur-like, although his voice was higher in pitch, almost amused.

 

That was the moment when Colin understood what had been happening all along. Bradley had not been bullying him, Bradley had been mirroring Arthur. Somewhere in Bradley’s mind, he felt the need to approach Colin in the same way Arthur approached Merlin. Clumsily, rudely, almost savagely.

 

The moment Colin walked through that door, — ice bucket in hand, letting Bradley manhandle him towards the small armchair next to the bed, as he pushed a tall glass of water in his hand and whispering “To leave an Irishman in the French heat… what are the producers thinking!?” — he understood Bradley.

 

He understood his kindness masked by aggressiveness, and his attempts at getting to know Colin through his sudden privacy violations. That day, Colin understood. That day, Colin began the long, eternal fall into the abyss.

 

“I really like your eyes, they’re blue but… not blue.” They were sitting now, and Bradley was halfway through his fourth pint. Colin was cradling his third, afraid to take another drink.

 

After the second time he had raised the pint to his lips, he had started to feel the urge to hug Bradley.

 

Colin was not physical; he was the opposite of physical. Alcohol made him easy going and not as closed up, but it never made him _physical_.

 

He just wanted Katie and Angel to be back, so they could joke again and laugh at stupid things. He wanted to regain control of his senses so he could stop thinking about Bradley’s hands, which were now drumming a rhythm on the table.

 

He wasn’t drunk, he was far from drunk but he wanted this clouding of the senses to be over. He wanted his logical mind back, his composed thoughts back. He wanted to stop looking at Bradley’s hands once and for all.

 

“Coliiiiin, we should do this more often!” Bradley was now slurring his words, and he sprawled himself upon the table as he talked, reaching his arms across it, leaving his biceps visible.

 

The moment Colin started counting the little moles in Bradley’s upper arms; he decided it was time to go knock on the lady’s room. He was about to get up and run – or at least try to – towards the back of the room when he saw Katie and Angel coming their way.

 

Bradley noticed too, for he stumbled out of the boot and embraced Angel as she arrived. Katie fell next to Colin, visibly more sober than before and before Colin could begin to try to detach his gaze from Bradley, who was now being pushed by Angel between shouts of “Get away! You’re drunk!” and “You’re a hussy, I don’t know why they named you Angel”, Katie grabbed Colin’s arm and whispered in his ear, in a jokingly manner “Oh my god! You’re jealous!”

 

Colin turned towards Katie, already creating a nasty comeback on his mind. He wanted to say “Jealous of Bradley for being a poor drunkard, sure”, but out of his mouth came another thing, altogether unexpected to him and, he realized after saying it aloud, to Katie.

 

“Yes”

 

Katie felt back, eyes rounding, and mouth falling open. If Colin had said it impassively, things would have been different. It would have been a token of his twisted humor, an expressionless joke. But he knew it hadn’t been so. His face had contorted, his eyebrows had risen. He had showed feeling, and that was news to anyone who knew Colin Morgan.

 

Angel and Bradley were still struggling with each other, one clinging and laughing, the other pushing away and making puking sounds.

 

Between Katie and Colin, only silence reigned. He could have taken it back. He could have joked adding something else, but he didn’t. It had been a confession, both to himself and to Katie. A confession he hadn’t expected, but his alcohol-filled brain had given to them both.

 

“Oh, Colin”, whispered Katie as he took Colin’s forgotten pint and took a swing at it, “Welcome to the bearable emptiness of falling in love”.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“I just feel disappointed. Disappointed at myself for letting this happen without noticing, and disappointed at _him_ for not telling me to do something about it.”

 

Bradley finally said those words after struggling to express his feelings for the past thirty minutes. For an unknown reason, his mother had called.  Bradley had picked up the phone and muttered a faked cheerful “Hi, mum!”, and the answer he got was a sigh and a worried “What happened? You don’t sound like yourself”.

 

The conversation had turned around, and he finally found the guts to spill his feelings.

 

It was true. He felt disappointed. Disappointed and split open, raw and sprinkled with salt and lemon. He longed for his life before Colin as much as he longed for his life with him. He couldn’t stop scratching the wound and he longed to feel complete again. He was in pieces, and the pieces were scattered in places he couldn’t reach.

 

In other words, he was suffering. He was suffering his loss along with the finding of his misery.

 

“Life goes on, Bradders. It’s been almost four months and I know right now you don’t see a future, but there is one. I just wish I could be there with you, but I’m afraid I have to hang up now. I’ll call you tomorrow. Hang on, it gets better”, was his mother’s quick reply, followed by a dial tone.

 

Bradley threw his mobile phone across the living room.

 

He couldn’t stop himself for thinking that Colin’s head would pop out any minute from the kitchen’s door, asking if Eoin was the reason for his phone’s suffering. Bradley would laugh then and he would neither deny nor confirm, but would only retort in mirth with a simple “Phones don’t feel, Cols.”

 

Bradley closed his eyes and covered his eyes with his hands. The more he tried to forget, the more he wanted to stop himself from doing so.

 

Breathing was hard, remembering was harder, but forgetting was not an option. How could he forget Colin’s dimples? Or the way his hair looked after waking up?

 

He could not forget the way his eyelashes curved and projected shadows across his cheekbones when he stood under the kitchen hood. He remembered that time when he woke up to find himself alone in bed. He had walked towards the source of noise, half dreaming, and had found Colin in the kitchen, heating water for tea. The only light was the kitchen hood’s orange glow. Colin was leaning on the counter, eyes cast down, cheekbones standing out in the shadows. Bradley had felt at home then. He had felt at home with that man, awake at 3 a.m., preparing himself a tea. He had felt complete. In that moment, Bradley thought death was not frightful; the only terrifying thing was to lose his lover. When Colin turned around and laughed, he realized he had said it aloud.

 

He could not forget that. The way Colin’s eyes shined with love in the semi-darkness, the orange glow behind him as he approached slowly, chuckling. To forget the kiss and the caress he bestowed upon Bradley on that moment, was to lose sense of direction.

 

Bradley would never forget it. He would never forget how Colin slowly drove him back towards the kitchen table, letting his hands caress his hair as he kissed him deeply. The whistle of the teakettle was their companion that night, as they made love on top of the table and on the kitchen floor.

 

That had been the night when Colin, lying on top of him, lips dancing against his own, had said “I adore you today, as I did yesterday and as I will tomorrow”.

 

And he had adored him. He had laid bare against him, giving unto him what he thought he’d never give. Bradley knew Colin had loved him. He had no doubt that the kisses, the tears and the scars had been real. He had cared, and he had shared with Bradley more than words and actions, he had shared feelings.

 

Their fights had been real. Their silences and voids were never a lie.

 

But they had built more bridges than dams. They had tried to uncover the truths hidden behind walls. They had driven them out, chased them and put them down. Sometimes along the way, they thought the truth might eat them alive before they got to catch its scent. But Bradley had always thought they had found a way around them.

 

Maybe it hadn’t been so. Some secrets hide too well, and some silences run too deep.

 

The truth was not their problem. It never really is. What destroys a bridge is the one who cuts the rope along with the one who lets the rope be cut, not the river running under it.

 

Bradley got up from the sofa, slowly wiping the stray tears from his face.

 

His mother had talked of the future, of how things got better with time. Bradley knew the truth. Things _did_ get better, lost lovers became memories and memories eventually became stories.

 

But he also knew that he didn’t want better things, not because he didn’t deserve them, but because he knew – with all his heart, and tragically so – that there were no better things.

 

How could there be better things than Colin’s feet finding his own on a winter night under the covers? Or better words than “Let me tie that knot for you, B.J.”? There was no better sight than that of Colin, silhouetted against the tall window, looking down upon the city and whispering “If we had some, our kids would be very weird”.

 

As Bradley locked the front door, he thought of the amount of regret needed to drown. After turning off the living room lights and slowly making his way upstairs, towards their – no, his – bedroom, he realized he would never drown in regret. He would never drown regretting loving Colin the way he had done, and the way he still did.

 

He could not – would not – feel ashamed, embarrassed, annoyed or guilty. He would only suffer his loss. And that was more than enough.

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_“We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love.”_

_―_ _ Sigmund Freud _

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_Three years, eight months earlier_

Time passes by in a slow circle for the one who suffers for love. Everyday Colin would question how time could fly so quickly and so slowly at the same time.

 

Two months ago, he had realized the inevitable. He had, under the fog of alcohol, admitted to himself – and to Katie – what he once thought impossible.

 

He had loved before, he had suffered before, but it had never burned like this. He remembered the first girl he fell in love with, back when he was 15 years old. She had been beautiful and charming. Red hair down to her waist, green eyes that left him breathless. He could still remember her laughter, as well as the feel of her lips against his own. The warmth of her hand in his, the shared looks and hidden blushes. He had fallen in love, and she had broken his heart.

 

That had been the first and the last time he fell in love. Or, at least, until now.

 

Society, for an unfathomable reason, dictates that “falling in love” is common. They talk about passion like one talks about weather. They say “look at those love-struck teenagers, they are so in love with each other” or “They fell in love in a party and they’re together now”.

 

Colin knew that society was wrong. He never shared that knowledge, but he possessed it nevertheless.

 

To fall in love is to fall outside yourself. That is not common. If it was, the system would never work.

 

When you fall in love – when you really fall in love – you cannot see yourself in a mirror. You hate the reflection not because you hate yourself, but because you hate being alone. You see your face in photographs and think you look empty. You close your eyes at night and think you are worthless because there is no sound of breathing next to you. Your skin itches and you scratch yourself, but you really want to stop feeling your skin, not the itch.

 

You walk, talk, eat as through a fog. You are inside yourself without feeling yourself. You extricate your mind from your perception of “self”.

 

To fall in love is the most personal and private act you will encounter on your whole life. But it’s a contradiction, because you feel like it’s not about you, like you don’t matter. Nothing matters but the person you adore. Yes, falling in love is finding that you are capable of adoring someone outside yourself.

 

It destroys you, slowly and painfully; but it also builds you up.

 

Our capacity to stay blind before anything in light of someone outside ourselves is one of the most astoundingly beautiful facts of our humanity.

 

Colin couldn’t understand the logic behind falling in love. He couldn’t understand it, because of its contradictory nature.

 

Growing up, he had understood that certain things in life work parallel to their opposite. That’s how nature works. But these were not two parallel opposing things working together; this was one contradictory feeling slowly eating him alive.

 

He wanted it to stop. He wanted to stop feeling complete and empty, on the point of breaking and mending himself. He wanted to stop suffering, because this suffering was not that bad. And that was dangerous.

 

“Did someone kick you or did your salad have cheese? No, scratch that. You actually look like a kicked puppy with indigestion.”

 

Colin looked up, quickly enough that he felt the muscles in his neck crack. He was standing in top of a tower, and he had been sure he was utterly alone. He had checked twice.

 

Bradley was standing near the door, the same that lead to one hundred and fifty steps – Colin had counted them along with Bradley when they discovered them – down to the castle’s courtyard. He was breathing heavily and looking at Colin, his hands on his hips. He was still wearing his chainmail.

 

Colin had to look away and bite his lips. He had been avoiding Bradley all week long. Not because he didn’t want to see him, quite on the contrary. He wanted to kiss him, take his chainmail off and make him forget his own name. Avoiding him had been the best option, seeing as how his real intentions were definitely not normal.

 

He was his co-star, for god’s sake. He was the Arthur to his Merlin, literally. He was his mate, and a very good one at that. Why did his heart had to take all that and turn it into a “not enough”?

 

“Nobody kicked me, and the salad had no cheese” was Colin’s feeble response after a minute of silence. He had slowly walked to the parapet wall, wanting to put as much distance between him and Bradley as possible.

 

“If nobody kicked you, and you didn’t consume any dairy products…” Bradley started slowly. A sudden rush of panic/excitement got hold of Colin as he heard Bradley stepping closer and closer to him. His next words were softly whispered not even ten inches away from his left ear. “Why have you been running away from me this whole week? Did I offend you in some way?”

 

Colin had to grip the parapet wall tightly to stop himself from turning around and telling Bradley the truth. He wanted to tell him he had done nothing, and he had done everything at the same time. He had offended him by existing and by being so far away from him. Yes, he had been running away, but the truth was that he only wanted to run _towards_ him.

 

“I’m just tired”, was Colin’s pathetic answer, muttered through gritted teeth.

 

Bradley sighed next to him. He was so close, Colin could feel the heat radiating from his body, and he felt his left side burning with the presence of the Englishman. His breath touched his cheek as he sighed next to him.

 

He had to run away, or he would risk losing everything. His sanity along with the burning secret he was about to scream on Bradley’s face.

 

How easy it would be, to simply turn around and say “I’ve been avoiding you because I love you and your face makes me want to cry.”

 

He took a breath in and decided to simply turn around and say “Sorry, gotta go now, talk to you later.”

 

Easier thought than done. As he turned around and opened his mouth, he found Bradley’s face five inches away from his. But that was not the problem, the problem was his expression. It was a mixture of hurt, confusion and curiosity, a mixture Colin had seen before. He remembered it was on the studio, also known as Prince Arthur’s lodgings, when Colin accidentally bumped against Bradley and retreated immediately, almost burned by him. In truth, he had felt burned, but he had been more confused than panicked. It had been four months ago, back when he was still clean from all the chaos of “falling in love”. Bradley had looked hurt back then, but more confused and curious.  This time around, though, Bradley looked mainly hurt. The confusion and curiously were dancing in his gaze, but the hurt had contorted his face.

 

Colin had to get away from him before he did something stupid, like kiss the hurt away.

 

Without a word, he turned around and walked – probably ran, in retrospect he couldn’t remember – towards the door and down the hundred and fifty steps.

 

He only remembered to breathe when the sun hit him square on the face, down in the courtyard of the castle.

 

The Irishman wanted to yell, cry and probably lie down on the ground and hide from everything. He wanted to stop suffering; he wanted to go back to the easy laughs with Bradley and the terrible song writing. He wanted to be able to knock on Bradley’s hotel room door on their day off just to ask him to practice some lines with him. He wanted to put pranks on Angel and Katie and the crew members close at hand. He wanted his time with Bradley back without the panic of meeting his gaze, or accidently brushing his hand against his arm.

 

He wanted him, entirely. He wanted him to be his in the morning when he woke up and showered in the room next door. He wanted him to be his in the afternoon when he collected his lunch in the catering tent and looked for Colin in the crowd of hungry people. He wanted him to be his in the daybreak, when they took the ride back to the hotel in tired silence. And he wanted him to be his in the night, as he went to sleep with a sigh, as he knew he always did.

 

Colin had never thought he could hate a feeling so much, especially when it was a feeling called “love”.

 

 _Whoever praised love once had to be a masochist,_ thought Colin, bitterly. _A very twisted, desperate and chaotic masochist._

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow, the pain had subsided. The agonizing pressure in his chest had eased, and breathing had become easier.

 

Bradley knew it was a start, after five months of a twisted life, this sudden breath of fresh air was invigorating.  He only felt a background ache, punctuated now and again by the sight of Colin’s books on the coffee table, or his socks on top of the washing machine.

 

He went out now, and he didn’t feel like breaking on every step. He began one day by walking to the nearest pub and finding himself capable of drinking a pint of beer without the sudden need to turn around and look for Colin in the crowd.

 

After that, things have started to come easier to him. Two weeks earlier, Eoin had called and Bradley had found himself meeting him, along with Tom and Rupert, on a secluded pub in the middle of the city. At first, he had wanted to turn around and run. The sight of his former co-stars burned in an unexpected way, like a scar split open through a sudden fall. He had been about to phrase his thoughts of running away through an excuse when Rupert came back with a pint of Guiness for him, a smile upon his lips. He had clapped him on the back and exclaimed “It’s so good to see you, Bradley! We should get together more often; maybe find a decent team for a football match.” In that moment, Bradley suddenly remembered what his life had been when he had had Colin by his side.

 

Colin had never been possessive, and he always gave Bradley the space to do things without him. He knew Bradley loved interacting with big groups of people, a personality trait Colin didn’t share. Bradley was sure he wasn’t so jealous of the time they spent together because they weren’t very open about their relationship with anyone. Katie and Angel knew from the start, but the Knights probably only suspected, partly because they came later. Tony and Richard silently understood, but never said a word. The crew members who had known them from the start simply kept on working, and Colin and Bradley never knew if that had been silent acceptance or pure ignorance.

 

He remembered, not without a hint of melancholy, the laid back interaction with his other male co-stars. First came Rupert, standing first on the background and slowly ascending. Then Santiago appeared for a while, only to reappear later with Tom. Along the way came crazy Eoin as Gwaine, and Adetomiwa as Elyan. Almost from the start, they had become a team, a gang. Bradley could still recall the footie matches, the pub crawls, the long nights spent discussing the latest news in the world of sport, and also, the discussions about the latest girl on Eoin’s list.

 

Bradley had always loved being around them, as much as he had loved being around the few friends from the crew before his Knights came into scene.

 

He remembered those days of filming the second season of Merlin, and the first football game he had shared with his friends from the crew. Before that, no one believed it when Bradley said he was good at playing football. After that, everyone praised him for being a better football player than an actor. They repeated the matches almost every day off, just so they could “see the Prince in action”. That was the level of comfort he shared with the crew members.

 

He recalled one Sunday afternoon in France, spent with the “Crew of Camelot”, as he had nicknamed them. It had been a month before starting his… he didn’t even know what to call it now, with Colin. He had hidden himself in his hotel room; he had been moping around, trying to find something to do to stop himself from crying out in frustration. He had tried cleaning – something he _never_ did – and he had tried studying his scripts. He had showered, ironed his shirts and even moved his furniture around. He was aware that Colin was next door and he felt a sudden need to go and knock on his door.

 

He hadn’t known it back then. Contrary to what people thought, Bradley was blind to his own love. It had been sleeping beneath the layers of skin, crawling up slowly and meeting the light now and again without asking for Bradley’s consent. People around him noticed – ‘people’ being Angel and Katie – but he never did. When the time finally came, he found it unknowingly, and then there was no turning back.

 

But on that Sunday afternoon, he just felt a discomfort, and he had rushed towards the football field the moment Dave, from the Art Department, knocked on his door to propose a friendly match.

 

Colin had been invited too, by Dylan. For a horse master, Dylan was an amazing football player, and from what Bradley could deduce, a good charmer. Colin was not a fan of watching blokes run around kicking a ball. Dylan had probably promised to give him the good horse on their next scene. That would explain why Bradley had to cope with edgy horses all the time.

 

Bradley recalled every second of the game. How Paul, the stunt coordinator, had scored the first goal, and how Ivan, the camera operator, had been begging to change positions, bored at being goalkeeper. He remembered Katie and Angel’s girly cheers and the look of absolute boredom on Colin’s face.

 

He also remembered, suddenly and without intending to, the smile Colin had cast his way the moment he scored a goal. He hadn’t been smiling, the definition had been “beaming”. The sun was going down, the field was painted gold and Colin had been sitting on the grass, hugging his knees towards his chest, chin on top of them. Next to him, Angel and Katie were hopping up and down, yelling silly things. Colin was simply there, not even clapping, just beaming. Bradley recalled his team’s claps on his back, hands in his hair. He could still recall the sound of the wind in the nearby trees and he was sure that, if he closed his eyes he could smell the grass in that midsummer dusk.

 

He remembered every detail, not because it had been a memorable game or a particularly fun day. He had captured in his memory every particle of dust because of that raw show of emotion in Colin’s face. There was no restraining in his beaming face, just honest, open mirth dancing in his eyes.

 

That was probably the moment Bradley understood he wanted Colin. He had understood it without assimilating it, but understood it nonetheless. And if he stopped to think about it, that beaming face was probably the reason why, one month later he found himself declaring his love to the Irishman by the moonlight, in a forgotten summer house in Monaco.

 

Back in the present day, in his flat, Bradley doubled and clutched his stomach.

 

He hadn’t meant to go that way. His thoughts had somehow drifted from happy memories from the ‘Merlin’ days with his co-stars and the crew to beautiful, loving moments with his ex-partner.

 

He had crossed a fine line without meaning to, the line between sweet melancholy and heartbreaking melancholy. And the problem was that once the gate was open, the memories came flooding back.

 

Colin’s hands in his chest as he whispered loving words in his ear. Colin’s laughter in the middle of the afternoon in his mother’s house, joking with his sister. Colin’s tear stained face by the starlight after their first fight. Colin’s Adam apple bobbing up and down as he hummed “Silent Night” after they set the Christmas tree on their flat. Colin’s hand in his as guided him towards their bed, his eyes already burning with desire.

 

Colin in England, in France, in Northern Ireland and in Wales. Colin strolling next to him along the Seine and the Thames, in winter and in spring.

 

Colin’s lips on his neck, Colin’s hands on his hips. Colin’s legs entwined through his own. Colin’s breathe in his chest.

 

The wound had closed. Bradley knew this, not because he didn’t spend hours without end finding through the melancholy fog the bits and pieces of the life he had shared with Colin. He knew it, because he could contain his tears now, he could smile at the memory of Colin’s attempts at singing in key with Adele.

 

At times it was unbearable. At times he felt the knife still deep within his chest, slowly turning and tearing him apart from the inside out. But there were also moments when he thought about calling him. Moments when, checking on his e-mails, he found himself tempted to write to him, simply to ask him how he was doing. No ulterior motive, just pure curiosity. And on those times, he felt no pain. He felt the void between them and he wanted to make it better, not through begging to come back together or through denial of ever loving Colin, but through real concern.

 

He was partially healed. And he visualized the possibility of his life coming back together once more.

 

Maybe a life without Colin would not be his ideal one. But it was life nonetheless. And beggars can’t be choosers.

 

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_“No grief so soft, no pain so sweet, as love's delicious melancholy.”_

 

_-[Frances Sargent Osgood](http://www.quoteidea.com/authors/frances-sargent-osgood-quotes)_

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_Three and a half years earlier_

 

Colin had been born in Northern Ireland, and winter meant for him what sun meant for the Sahara. He remembered whole winters spent dreaming of the sun, wanting to be on a far away beach, preferably Australia. His favorite aunt had once visited it and he kept the postcard of the sunny beach she had given him close at hand since the month of October.

 

October had always meant for him the end of a too short lived happiness called Sun. His brother once said that Samhain really meant Death, and winter meant suffering. He hadn’t been so wrong, Colin realized when he was older, but he still felt like his life hadn’t been that difficult. At least he was lucky enough to not have been born in the Middle Ages.

 

The first summer he spent in France he felt like he was slowly dying. The moment October came, he only wanted snow to fall. Not because he missed it, but because he wanted to stop hiding from the sun under an umbrella kindly provided by the ‘Merlin’ crew members.

 

October didn’t give him snow on that first year, but it did give him Bradley’s first birthday party. It had been wild and fun and he still remembered Bradley’s childish face of surprise as three crew members appeared with a gigantic cake.

 

From that day onwards, he always waited for October 11th. At first he waited for it, as he waited for Angel’s and Katie’s birthdays or any other cast or crew member’s birthday. But as time went by, he had begun to look forwards to October. At first, without a reason, and later with a very definite and painfully wonderful reason.

 

Bradley’s birthday was the only day of the year when Colin let himself approach the blonde man. A hug, some congratulatory words, maybe a simple present or two.

 

Last year he had hugged him, not without a sudden excitement in his chest, unexplained on that moment. This year though, he wanted to do something better than that.

 

He had time to plan a gift, or a surprise party, or something particularly special that screamed – in a manner that only Bradley would know – “I love you, if you love me back, please let me know”.

 

It was the middle of August and Colin had been entertaining the idea of this special gift for five months now. He hadn’t voiced his thoughts to Katie or Angel nor, god forbid, the recently casted Eoin Macken. The girls would have “awww”ed at him for being a love-struck idiot, because naturally they both knew how stupidly in love he was with Bradley.

 

Eoin, on the other hand, remained oblivious to Colin’s feelings, probably because he had been casted as Gwaine at the start of August and he started appearing on set on the excuse of “mingling with his soon-to-be cast members” only a few days back. Colin had only talked to him a couple of times, and that gave him room to know that he didn’t even suspect about his situation with Bradley. In truth, Eoin’s first episode was to be filmed early on the next year, but apparently the Irishman wanted an excuse for a sudden vacation in France. On the first day he appeared on set, he had shaken Bradley’s hand and immediately started asking him about football. They had clicked instantly and Colin had found his first real competition. Not that he wasn’t grateful, at least now he could have some time alone to cope with his feelings, but sometimes he couldn’t quite control his jealousy.

 

Katie had once halted in her step as she walked pass him. He had been staring at Eoin and Bradley laughing across the courtyard, and he was possibly pouting. Katie had only petted his head and offered to bring him some tea.

 

Colin liked Eoin, he did. He just didn’t like the fact that Bradley really liked Eoin, too.

 

He remembered how Bradley had orbited around Santiago when he first came in to film his first episode as Lancelot. Back then, Colin had been grateful to share Bradley’s need for entertainment at every moment with Santiago, but now the situation was altogether different.

 

If he shared his idea of a surprise party with Eoin, he would definitely start talking about the best strip clubs in Paris, or something bordering on illegal sexual activities. In the few days of his acquaintance with the Irishman, he knew this would be his answer. That was the last thing Colin wanted. Just the thought of Bradley enjoying a lap dance from a girl made him want to puke.

 

He had to think of something, all by himself. Something that would give him the chance to escape if things went wrong. Because Colin was planning on telling him. He needed to let it out soon, before the feeling began to rot inside him and turn his insides to lead.

 

He just needed a plan, a perfect moment. What came later, be it total happiness or eternal awkwardness, was not relevant. Yes, he was putting his whole career out there, in the open. He was putting a rabbit in middle of a pack of hungry wolves. He was aware of the fact that he had a contract and he had a role to play for three more years, but he also knew that if he didn’t do this now, he would crack.

 

For the first time in his life, he was putting his professionalism on stand-by. If he had had a choice, he would never have done it. But this had come without a letter of recommendation or a set curriculum. It had come and it had feasted on his little heart, slowly eating away the walls he had carefully built up to protect himself. Ever since he became an actor, the moment he took his first serious role, he swore to himself to never mingle work with play or pleasure.

 

And here he was, planning a love-declaration party masked as a birthday party. There was something terribly wrong with his life.

 

He came out of his reverie thanks to a knock on his door. It was their day off and Bradley had promised not to bother him this time. The last day off they had spent together had ended in disaster. Colin had been so nervous at being together with Bradley in a hotel room that he had ended staying silent through a whole movie. Bradley had tried to edge him into voicing over certain scenes, changing the characters and the themes. After two hours and a half of Colin’s suffering at Bradley’s closeness and Bradley’s obvious discomfort at Colin’s silence, the Englishman had left the room with the excuse of catching up on some of his line memorizing.

 

The moment Bradley closed the door behind him; Colin regretted not asking him to stay so they could practice their lines together. Three seconds after thinking it, he realized that would have ended in disaster too, probably.

 

He had to control himself now. He took a long breathe in as he stood up and walked towards his door. He could hear Bradley’s voice on the other side, talking to someone. He sure hoped it wasn’t Eoin, who had also visited them at their hotel.

 

He opened the door to find Bradley talking on his phone. Colin frowned, confused as to why Bradley would knock on his door if he was busy on the phone. Bradley, without interrupting his conversation, signaled Colin with his free hand, trying to tell him to move back so he could enter the room.

 

Colin obeyed, more out of curiosity than anything. Bradley ushered in before Colin could move back completely, and he ended with Bradley’s hand in his chest, being pushed back roughly towards his room.

 

Bradley got a hold of Colin’s shirt and pushed him all the way to his bed, finally manhandling him into sitting down at the end of it. As Bradley sat down next to him, still talking on the phone, Colin hoped he hadn’t felt the sudden quickening of his heartbeat, not the sudden look of terrified happiness in his eyes.

 

He remembered dreaming once something similar. Of course, he hadn’t ended sitting on his bed next to Bradley. That was too innocent even for him.

 

He suddenly caught one of Bradley’s phrases.

 

“So, Aunt Millie won’t mind if we crash at her summer house in Monaco?” he sat facing Colin, his left leg on top of the bed. He was looking at him intently, almost without blinking. Colin knew this meant he was in deep thought, but that didn’t help to diminish the quickening of his heartbeat or the sudden rush of blood to his head.

 

He could be talking to his mother about a family vacation. Why would he even consider taking Colin to Monaco? Now he was just being delusional.

 

Bradley was silent for a moment, listening to the reply over the phone. This silence almost made Colin sweat. Bradley hadn’t dropped his gaze; he was still looking at him. Colin had to catch his breath as he suddenly smiled, surely happy at the response he got through the phone.

 

“Great! Tell Aunt Millie we are good boys and we’ll take care of her house.” He said, still smiling like a child with a new toy, “Yes, mom. I’ll tell Colin you say hi. Talk to you later, bye!”

 

He hung up and threw his phone across the bed.

 

For 10 seconds, the longest Colin had experienced in the past month, he didn’t say anything, he simply kept staring at him. Colin couldn’t quite comprehend the look in his eyes. There was excitement, mingled with a bit of childish happiness and, if he was right in his lecture, a bit of panic.

 

“What would you say if I told you I just got ourselves a vacation to Monaco?” he said slowly. The corner of his lips was trembling slightly, waiting for an answer to start smiling again.

 

Colin swallowed. He must have heard wrong.

 

“What?” he laughed nervously, “Our filming schedule is packed this month. There’s no way we are getting vacations now” he finished in a single breath, almost choking in the need to kiss Bradley’s twitching lips.

 

Bradley suddenly sprang up from the bed, in a burst of energy characteristic of one of his bad and/or amazing ideas.

 

“I just talked to Julian, in extension Johnny, and told them we needed a break. We have been filming 14 hours a day for the past two weeks, Cols. If 12 hours is exhausting, 14 hours are just deadly. They told me I was crazy, but then I told them about the schedule for next week. Thursday, Friday and Saturday are packed with scenes without Merlin and Arthur. For one reason or the other, we only have two scenes. You have three, but that’s not the point. I guess it was J&J’s way of letting us take a break. I told them it was not enough. I told them you were on the point of breaking, and don’t deny it, you are. Have you seen yourself lately? You are on edge all the time!”

 

Colin had to catch his breath at this last phrase. Yes, he was edgy, but the intense filming was not the reason. The reason was standing in front of him, knees almost touching his own, head bent down so he could look at Colin, who was still sitting on the bed.

 

“So, I proposed to go through the re-schedule with them so we could finish our scenes on Wednesday. Yesterday, we finally found a way to fit all together and now my mom just called telling me that Aunt Millie is ok with letting us stay in her summer house in Monaco. So, in short terms, you better start packing your bags because we’re going to Monaco next Thursday.”

 

Bradley finished his speech with a smile on his face, taking a breath in. He was so excited, he had said all this very quickly. Colin had been left hanging between the thought of Bradley noticing he was on edge, and Bradley telling him he had fought to get them both some time off. The plan was perfect, really. He couldn’t have come up with something so perfect.

 

All the thoughts of a surprise birthday party and complicated gifts vanished from his mind.

 

“So, what do you think?” Bradley said as he let his hands rest on his hips, still smiling. “You think you can put up with me for half a week in Monaco?”

 

Colin answered without hesitation, and two seconds later he regretted it as he blushed. But his answer lighted up Bradley in an instant. He hadn’t meant to sound so earnest, but he couldn’t control his tongue.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

 

 

Colin was grateful the train ride was over. He had spent six hours of his life hanging by a thread between frustration and intense satisfaction.

 

Bradley had been overexcited for the past days at the prospect of being in Monaco, and he had probably slept only a little the night before. They had arrived at the train station around 9 a.m., and from the moment they saw the taxi drive away, Bradley had begun to chatter incessantly about all the summers he had spent in his Aunt Millie’s summerhouse. They had eaten a quick early lunch and all through that, Bradley told Colin about the beach in Monte Carlo and the crazy winding streets in Monaco. In moments like that, Colin knew better than to try to stop him. Once Bradley got excited to a certain level, it was better just to let him prattle it away.

 

Four hours later, when they had taken the train and had been on the way for thirty minutes, Colin started to regret letting Bradley waste his energy on the train station. Bradley was a sucker for staying awake in trains, moving vehicles or airplanes and that led to the most agonizingly wonderful six hours for Colin.

 

The first hour he spent sitting next to a sleeping Bradley, he simply tried to direct his thoughts to other things, like the music he was listening to. He hadn’t even tried to think about the shared earphones and the uncomfortable position he had to come up with so he could end up sharing his music with Bradley without touching his shoulder.

 

By the second hour, he decided his back was more important that keeping up his personal space and as he shifted his posture, Bradley stirred suddenly and ended up resting his head against Colin’s shoulder.

 

By the hour number three, Colin wished he had brought a book so he could pretend he wasn’t looking at Bradley while he slept. In the middle of the hour, Bradley moved a little bit more and his hand ended on Colin’s right thigh. Moments later, Colin realized the music had stopped, probably an hour or two ago, and he hadn’t even noticed.

 

Hours number four, five and six where shamelessly spent tracing Bradley’s jaw with his gaze, looking at his hand resting on his thigh, trying to catalogue Bradley’s hair color and wishing his eyes were open so he could pinpoint the exact shade of blue. On those three hours, Colin learned more about Bradley that he ever thought he would.

 

He learned that Bradley slept with his mouth semi-open, with his eyes tight shut, not slightly. He learned he barely moved, not changing sleeping positions drastically like Colin did. Bradley’s fingers twitched in his sleep once in a while, Colin learned this in the hard way, his hand being on his left thigh. Also, he deduced, Bradley liked sleeping next to someone, or at least, hugging something. His free hand had grasped his shoulder bag, hugging it to his chest. He also, apparently, was oblivious to noises. Two children had suddenly appeared, around hour number four, and they began running up and down the aisle, giggling. It was ten minutes later that their mothers found them, scolding them for changing coaches and disturbing the passengers. One of them began to cry. All through this, Bradley had stayed asleep; his only response was a sudden sigh and a slight movement of his head against Colin’s shoulder.

 

So, it was natural that, five hours and fifty minutes into the train ride, Colin was apprehensive as to waking Bradley up. That meant giving up staring and enjoying the warmth and weight of his head against his shoulder, as well as the calming presence of his hand on his thigh. But he was also begging for the moment to be over, so he could breathe again and remember his own name. The moment a voice announced the train would reach their destination in five minutes, Colin had no other option.

 

The moment they stepped down the train, Bradley’s ruffled hair and sleepy eyes were enough to bring Colin back to reality. Sadly enough, his reality was feeling slightly sick whenever his gaze fell on the blonde haired man. At least he now had the memory of Bradley’s sleeping head on his shoulder. That and – no one would ever know, of course – a photograph on his phone.

 

“Aunt Millie’s summerhouse is on one of hills above Monaco”, Bradley told Colin the moment they found the waiting line for a taxi, “The view of the sea is breathtaking, and the noise of the city is lost in the noise of the waves”.

 

Colin was barely registering the words. Bradley’s sleepy voice was lower in tone than his normal voice, and ten times deeper than his high pitched five-year-old-on-sugar-rush excited voice. The Irishman wondered, not without having to look away for a minute, how deep his voice would be after sex.

 

It took them half an hour to get a taxi, and by then, Bradley’s normal voice was back. They had picked up on a light conversation about the importance of knowing how to pet a hedgehog without hurting yourself. Bradley was supporting his argument by repeating again and again “hedgehogs are not poisonous!” and Colin, between laughter, just kept his side of the argument by answering “but they are grumpy and mean!”. Their silly argument didn’t end in the taxi, and on the ride to the summer house they changed from hedgehogs to tarantulas.

 

Twenty minutes after getting in the taxi, Colin was laughing silently, clutching his stomach and trying to control himself. Bradley head was thrown back, his high pitched laugh probably scaring the poor taxi driver. In the middle of Monaco, on their way to a deserted summer house, Colin realized he wouldn’t mind feeling half empty and half full all the time if it meant feeling like that thanks to Bradley.

 

They arrived on the summer house around 9 p.m., after almost an hour of suffering the noise of traffic. The house was situated on a high hill, almost at the end of a wounding street lighted with lampposts. The house had the sea on its back, and the moment Colin stood next to Bradley at the front door; he couldn’t help but wonder if it had a large window. He had always liked large windows with breathtaking views, probably because back in Armagh, his room had a small window with view to a side street.

 

As Bradley was fumbling with the keys, he said “Take off your shoes, Aunt Millie doesn’t allow shoes in the house”. Colin chuckled silently as he did as he was told, letting his sock slip along with his shoes. The ground underneath his feet was warm. Bradley took off his shoes and socks with one hand, trying to keep his balance while he looked for the right key in the set he was carrying.

 

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Bradley unlocked the door and turned to Colin dramatically slow.

 

“Welcome to the house of dreams”, he whispered. If Colin hadn’t been so exhilarated by the sound of the waves and the fresh sea wind on his face, he would have probably noticed Bradley’s wavering voice and nervous gaze.

 

The moment Bradley opened the door for Colin; the Irishman had to take a breath in. There, right in front of the double front door, with only a white carpet as an obstruction to the eye, was the most astoundingly beautiful view he had ever laid eyes on. It was a large window, but the correct term had to be “a wall made of glass”.

 

Colin hadn’t even realized he had entered the house until he found the soft material of the carpet under the soles of his feet. Behind the enormous window was the sea, illuminated by the light of the full moon, hanging low on the horizon. It was a rough sea, and Colin was paralyzed by the sound of the waves. It was almost as if they were breaking against the house, when in truth, they were miles above it. The moonlight made the long waves sparkle.

 

He grew conscious of Bradley’s presence the moment he heard the door close.

 

The sound of his footsteps approaching were echoed by the beating of his heart on his chest. He was suddenly aware of their solitude. For a moment, Colin forgot how to breathe.

 

He felt Bradley’s presence approaching, and the moment his footsteps were silenced by the carpet, he had to curl his toes into the soft material to stop himself from turning around and kissing him. The knot on his stomach tightened and the pounding on his head increased as he felt Bradley’s hand fall on his arm.

 

Bradley was not facing the window; he was facing Colin, looking at him intently. Colin saw the outline of his face by the corner of his eye and thought that, if he had the guts to turn around and face him, he would probably end up blurting it all out.

 

He would confess the long hours spent trying to put a name to the feeling invading his chest. The sleepless nights, turning around in bed wishing to have him by his side. The pangs of jealousy at seeing him laugh with Eoin, or Katie or even Tony. The sudden rush of energy at the sight of his face by the first light of dawn, on the car ride to Pierrefonds. The happiness at sharing a few moments between takes, joking away with him or looking for a shaded place to put their chairs. And, of course, the torturing hours spent at their hotel rooms, running lines and laughing away at Bradley’s impersonation of David Bowie, or at Colin’s attempt at singing the dramatic lines.

 

And it would end. If Colin turned around and blurted it all out, all those things would come to a stop. Because there was no way Bradley felt anything but pure camaraderie towards him.

 

“I think…” Bradley whispered, his voice low and clearly wavering. The hand he had let fall on Colin’s arm suddenly gripped him tighter, but tenderly. Colin’s brow furrowed, the sound of his heartbeat still clear in his ears. Bradley never whispered, and his voice never wavered.

 

“I think…” Bradley said again, this time in a whisper so faint, Colin barely heard it over the sound of the waves.

 

Colin took a breath in and slowly turned around. Bradley was trying to say something to him, and he was clearly having a hard time doing it. Colin knew him enough to know that by meeting his gaze, he would stop hesitating and say what was on his mind.

 

The moment he turned around and met his gaze, he wished he hadn’t. Bradley’s hand had slipped as he turned around, and his hand was now tenderly holding his wrist. The moonlight coming through the window hit the white carpet beneath them, reflecting its glow in it and they were almost illuminated from below by the moon. Bradley’s eyes were pure water, transparent and ethereal. Behind them lurked a confusion of feelings. Colin saw panic, expectation, exhilaration, disturbance and urge. But above all, he saw something he couldn’t comprehend. He was sure he was just reflecting his own feelings, for he saw, enveloping the chaos of feelings on that glance, pure raw tenderness.

 

They stood there, illuminated by the moonlight on one side and from below, the sound of the raging waves drowning all other sounds. And what felt like an eternity later, Bradley whispered seven words that changed it all forever.

 

Seven words would reshape them in the course of the time to come. Seven words would undo them and trap them.

 

With seven words, Colin lost his mind, along with his heart and soul.

 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Bradley’s mother had been right. She was always right.

 

Life went on.

 

Eight months had come to pass, and with them, came change. Bradley had finally found a minor role to play in a movie. Nothing big, nothing scandalous, just a background role that hung between the cliché blond guy and the cliché dumb guy. It took Bradley a month and a half to shoot, and with work came distraction. He found himself less tempted to curl in a ball and cry, or to check the folder on his computer filled with photos with Colin.

 

One night, when he came back from filming, he almost called him. Unconsciously, he had taken his phone on his hand, and as he was about to push the “call” button, he realized what he was doing. Two more seconds, and he would have found himself panicking at the thought of hanging up and knowing Colin would see the missed call, or staying on the line and actually risking hearing his voice again.

 

Colin hadn’t called. For the past eight months, he hadn’t even shown signs of life.

 

Bradley had not been surprised, he still wasn’t. Colin had never been the expressive one. He was the one who simply answered Bradley’s calls at three in the morning without protesting, or the one who put up with him when he drank coffee late at night. But he had never been the one who called him when he was away, back in his hometown. Not calls, nor e-mails, not even a note left behind on the fridge.

 

That was Colin. He was ice and snow, a gust of wind coming from the North Sea. He was the one who preferred to spend Sundays curled in the living room sofa, reading one of his books. Bradley was the one who always came and began poking him while watching TV. In truth, he always faked it, how could he watch TV when Colin was right _there_? They both would pretend not to notice. Bradley knew Colin wasn’t truly reading anymore, and Colin knew Bradley wasn’t watching TV. Most Sunday’s afternoons were spent in a silent combat. The one who lost it first and either dropped the book or turned off the TV was the loser.

 

Bradley still recalled the punishments they had set for their Sunday combats. Bradley’s punishment was making Colin tell him something about his past, anything that concerned the secret years he always seemed to elude in conversation. Through that punishment, Bradley had found out Colin had had his first boyfriend at drama school, and his name had been Sean. He also found out about Amy and Lily, and the threesome. Yes, Colin’s sweet choir boy façade had never been more than that, a façade.

 

Colin’s punishment for Bradley – and Bradley almost always lost, blame his lack of patience – was more on the dark side. It had to do with things done in the dark intimacy of their bedroom, with a pair of handcuffs and sometimes, if Colin felt like it, a blindfold. In all honesty, although he would never admit it to the Irishman, most of the times Bradley lost on purpose.

 

Colin was ice, but ice burns stronger than fire. And the scars left by the cold are often more painful than the ones inflicted by heat.

 

In eight months, Bradley had found himself dealing with a newborn scar. It was there, not visible yet always pulsing. The ache of the pain was low but intermittent.

 

October had come, and with it, the winds from the North. The leaves from the trees began to accept their end and the streets were filled with falling leaves. Bradley loved autumn, as much as Colin loved spring.

 

It was October 10th, and Bradley was sitting by the tall bay window on the living room, drinking a cup of coffee and observing the falling leaves by the last rays of sunshine. In a couple of hours, he would turn 30.

 

He sighed into his cup of coffee, drawing in his legs towards his chest. He wasn’t sure how he felt. The last time he celebrated his birthday, he had been on another flat, back in Cardiff, but he hadn’t even thought about looking outside his window. _Their_ window, he recalled how Colin quickly corrected him whenever he said “my bed” or “my kitchen”. On his last birthday, he had come home after a long day of filming, wondering where Colin had gone to and why he wasn’t answering his phone. The moment he stepped into the flat they shared – no one knew about this, except Katie and Angel. Bradley had one flat the production team had given him, but he never used it – he had been greeted by a smiling Colin, hidden between shadows in the dark flat, the light from the birthday candles illuminating him as he sang “Happy birthday” to him.

 

Now, back in London, Bradley still felt like he was missing something. Probably the scent of Colin in his – past tense: their – sheets. This had been their flat, the one they had found months before finishing filming the third season of ‘Merlin’, right after they had decided to move in together. Contrary to the flat shared in Cardiff for the filming of season four, this one they had picked. The bay window decided Bradley’s signature on the contract, and the hidden attic above their bedroom had meant Colin’s signature right next to Bradley’s.

 

The Englishman suddenly realized he hadn’t visited the attic since Colin left.

 

Back when he… was still here, Colin had prohibited Bradley to enter the attic. It was his room, he had said, the only place where “their” became “his”. Bradley always bothered him, telling him he didn’t have a “his” place in the flat, but Colin shut him up with kisses whenever he started to get really annoyed. This had always worked, and Bradley forgot his complains the moment Colin ran his hands through his hair.

 

As a gust of wind outside the bay window stripped the leaves from the nearby trees, Bradley decided it was time to inspect the attic.

 

He got up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving his cup of coffee on the nearest counter. He suddenly felt the need to rush towards the attic, and discover the hidden side Colin never showed him. It had always been there, a shadow between them. Bradley had never doubted Colin, and he had never doubted his love towards the Irishman, but he would be lying if he said he never doubted – maybe only for a moment – how much Colin loved him. He knew he loved him, no one would put up with him for so long if they didn’t. But to what extent that love came, he always wondered.

 

Bradley would kill for Colin. He was conscious of the fact that he still would. He would kill and die for him without hesitation, but… had Colin ever felt that strongly towards him?

 

Or, God forbid Bradley for being such a masochist, if he had… Did he still feel it?

 

He climbed the stairs into the second level. The flat was more of a loft than a real flat, and the second level was above the small dining room, the kitchen and the adjoining laundry room. This second level was their bedroom and above it was the hidden attic.

 

The attic door was hidden in one corner of the room, and Bradley now walked towards it. He almost felt apprehensive; having spent more than three years pretending that small door in the ceiling didn’t exist. It had taken him all his self control not to go in there, and now his curiosity was burning him.

 

It took him almost fifteen minutes to find the door pole in the depth of the closet, and when he finally did, he almost ran towards the attic door. The moment he climbed the ladder and walked towards the nearest wall to hit the light switch, he was almost out of breath thanks to his excitement at finally getting to see how the attic looked.

 

The moment the light cleared the shadows, he wished he hadn’t climbed into the low ceiling room.

 

Everything, from the deep blue carpet under the roof window to the green puff sofa next to the low empty bookshelf, was drenched in the image of Colin. He couldn’t picture anyone else up here. No one but Colin would desert the comfortable living room to lie for half an hour under the roof window, probably feeling the cold in the winter and the heat in the summer, just so he could read a book in silence.

 

On the left wall, the one opposite the puff sofa, Colin had stuck a combination of photographs, magazine and newspapers clipping and postcards. There was one review of an indie play in the Old Vic, a couple of photographs of a deserted landscape, possibly Armagh, and a postcard from New York, probably sent by one of his drama school friends. There was also a small magazine clipping of Zooey Deschanel. Bradley had to laugh at this.

 

Suddenly, Bradley felt his heart sink. There, next to an article of one of Death Cab for Cutie’s concerts, was a photograph. Angel had taken that one, one day in Paris. It was spring, probably around April 2010. They had been together for eight months – Bradley thought bitterly that it was the same amount of time elapsed since Colin had left their flat – and they were standing close together. Bradley’s left arm was on Colin’s shoulder, he was beaming and Colin arm was coiled around Bradley, resting on his middle back. His shy smile made Bradley’s eyes itch with unshed tears. Not far from the photo was a postcard from Monte Carlo and on the low part of the wall, separated from all the other clippings, there was another photo. Bradley turned around and looked towards the puff sofa. The last photo was directly across it, probably at the level where Colin’s eyes would be if he sat down.

 

This photo was nothing special; Bradley had tons of photos similar in his laptop. But for one reason or the other, Colin had chosen that one.

 

It was a quick shot. On the background was their kitchen, one counter visible. Almost all the shot was occupied by Colin’s smiling face, eyes crinkled. Only on one corner was Bradley visible. He remembered now. He had taken this photo one morning after waking up. He had felt positively bothersome that morning, and he had taken the camera, sneaked behind Colin – who was cooking them breakfast – and had let his hand hug him around his neck, holding him in place. He had whispered “Good morning, darling”, being instantly answered by Colin’s open laugh. He had then closed the space between them, planting a kiss on Colin’s cheek as he took the photo.

 

Of all the photos they had, Colin had chosen this one. Not one on the Merlin set, or in Pierrefonds, or in Paris, Cardiff, Monaco. He had chosen a photo taken in their flat, in one of their thousand mornings spent together.

 

Bradley walked back towards the puff sofa and sat down, staring straightly ahead towards the photograph.

 

Colin had sat here, time after time, reading a book or listening to one of indie bands with his earphones on. He had probably let his gaze wander around the room, resting on the beams on the low ceiling, and the light falling through the roof window. And no matter what he did, his gaze would always fall on that photograph, clearly separated from the heap of memories stuck to the wall.

 

As the light from the day disappeared slowly, and the chill from the autumn night started creeping through the thin walls and the roof window, Bradley felt his heartbeat slow down.

 

The photograph was now hidden in shadows, the light had faded and with it the memory. Colin had stuck that photograph there and had spent endless hours, hours away from Bradley after excusing himself to get “some time alone”, sitting there. And on one of those moments when he decided to be by himself, he had separated the photograph and stuck it around his eye level so he could stare at it.

 

Even when Bradley was one floor under him, making noises and singing aloud so Colin would pity him and come back, he was still thinking about them.

 

Colin had loved him. He truly had. Bradley would never be sure to what extent, but judging by this space, his space, filled with memories of them intermingled with those few hobbies Colin enjoyed, he was sure he had loved him enough to remind himself of his presence even when he wanted to be alone.

 

As the first ray of moonlight came through the roof window, the truth hit Bradley square in the chest.

 

Colin had loved him, and the moment he had come here, bag in hand, ready to leave this flat, he had taken the books pilled on the bookshelf and judging by the empty space in the middle of the room, probably a yoga mat. But he had left the photographs.

 

The carpet and the puff sofa had been irrelevant, simple props to the room. But the clippings, postcards and photographs were personal.

 

What Colin had stuck on the wall, he had left behind. The moment he had closed the door behind him, he probably hadn’t even looked back.

 

Bradley was awakened by the sound of his phone beeping. With shaky hands, he took it out of his pocket. It was a text from Katie, wishing him an early happy birthday. He read her text through a foggy mist, knowing full well that his eyes were full of unshed tears.

 

“Happy birthday, King Asshole. I’m happy to know you’re alive, although you haven’t called in months. Say hi to Colin for me and tell him he should, and you better quote me!, fuck you senseless tonight. You’re welcome. Happy birthday again. P.S.: Sorry for the early birthday text, figured you’d be too busy by midnight. I’d be too if I had a sexy Colin Morgan by my side.”

 

 _So Colin didn’t tell her,_ Bradley thought as he let his tears fall silently.

 

He let his head fall back with a soft thud against the wall, too paralyzed with sudden pain to bother to get up and leave the attic.

 

The wound had closed and only the scar remained. But the scar burned like a phantom limb, more shock than pain. Bradley was aware that Colin wasn’t there anymore, but he could still feel him. He reached out for him without moving, knowing full well that he wasn’t there.

 

His phone beeped for the second time, and he saw Angel’s name on the screen.

 

This was going to be a very cheerful birthday. Alone in the attic room, filled with the scent and discarded memories left behind by the man he loved.

 

By the man he _still_ loved.

 

 

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_“True love burns the brightest, but the brightest flames leave the deepest scars.”_

_ \- Brandi Snyder_ __

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The moment Colin stepped into their flat; he knew it was too good to be true.

 

The tall bay window occupied almost all the wall opposite the front door. The double ceiling living room was the main room of the loft, and the glass staircase glowed by the light of the sun shining through the window. There was no furniture yet, only the clear area that would soon be filled with their stuff. Colin planned to set a huge red sofa in the middle of the room, and Bradley had already bought the 72” flat screen that would be placed before it.

 

They had been planning this for months. Back in France, they had spent endless hours browsing furniture websites and studying their loft photos.

 

Their flat. Their place.

 

As Bradley called it the moment they signed the contract, _their_ love nest.

 

Colin found himself suddenly enveloped by Bradley, his hands resting against his lower belly. Colin let his hands fall over Bradley’s, intertwining their fingers as the Englishman kissed his neck tenderly.

 

“We have two options” started Bradley, as he slowly made Colin turn around so they were facing each other.

 

Colin did it willingly, letting his hands wrap around Bradley’s shoulders, closing the space between them even further. It took him all his self control to stop himself from kissing him.

 

“We either go out and buy some food, because in all honesty, I’m starving” said Bradley as he raised his eyebrows, aware that the glint on Colin’s eyes was far from the word ‘food’.

 

“Or… we have a _premiere_ on the middle of the living room” he ended, biting his lips to stop the imminent smile from erupting.

 

Colin stared at him, knowing full well that the longer he took to answer, the more abruptly Bradley would react to his response. He let the silence fall, staring directly at Bradley’s eyes, not even blinking. The gaze was filled at first with amusement, a hint of hilarity in the corner of their eyes. Yet, the more they stared at each other in silence, the more the gaze developed. Like a slow, deep kiss, it began tender, and as it deepened it got charged up. First with the expectation of a reaction, then on the slow realization of its heat. Heat brought desire, and desire evolved to need.

 

After two minutes, which felt like thirty hours to Colin, he finally moved closer to whisper in Bradley’s ear.

 

“Take me.”

 

As expected, Bradley reacted in an explosive way. He crouched slightly, letting his hands slide quickly down Colin’s back, slowing down as he traced his hipbones only to pass from his bum, to the back of his thighs. He lifted him up, drawing his knees in towards his hips. Colin emitted a sudden laugh, echoed instantly by Bradley’s chuckle.

 

The Irishman reached down, running his hands through the blonde’s hair, and kissed him in a passionate, unreserved way. He could feel Bradley’s beating heart – and yes, its beat had quicken the moment he lifted Colin – against his ribcage as he slowly walked them towards the middle of the room.

 

As Colin deepen the kiss, forgetting about shame or reason, Bradley brought them towards the ground slowly without letting go of Colin’s thighs. There was no space between them, only their shirts separating their burning chests. Colin felt the cold floorboards under him, as Bradley laid him down upon them, careful not to break the kiss or the body contact.

 

The moment Bradley let go of his thighs, only to travel up under his shirt, teasing close to the brim of his denim trousers, Colin wrapped his legs around his hips, letting the soles of his sock-clad feet rest upon Bradley’s exquisite arse.

 

The kiss had turned rough the moment Bradley pinched Colin’s left nipple. Suddenly, it had transformed from a prelude to a development. Colin bit down on Bradley’s lower lip, and the blonde instantly opened his eyes and stopped all movement.

 

The fire burning in his blue orbs was beyond description. They were both half aroused, and this intermission was common. It was a battle of wills, a test of mind endurance. Colin had been enjoying the same routine for the past year, and he knew it by heart. He knew this was the decisive point, the moment the plot turned. There were various factors that came into it, Bradley’s romantic mood and Colin’s persuasive input for starters. This could either turn into slow, tender love making, accompanied by soothing whispers and probably led by Bradley, or it could turn into swift, rough sex, accompanied by disentangled moans and screams and probably led by Colin.

 

Colin was still biting Bradley’s lower lip, battling with him through a gaze when the sun abruptly appeared from behind a cloud. It hit Bradley from the left side and the deep, uncharted blue of his eyes stood out. His hair shined like golden threads, standing in all directions where Colin’s hands had previously lost themselves.

 

The Irishman forgot about the gaze battle, and let himself fall into reverie. This man above him was his boyfriend. This man, the same who shared maybe 15% of his interests, was the love of his life. Colin let Bradley’s lower lip free, and he let his head fall back on the floorboards with a thud.

 

The tenderness and love he felt in his chest must have been reflected in his glance, for Bradley suddenly took a breath in, slowly opening his mouth as he let it out. His gaze had turned from challenging to openly gentle. With a single action, Colin had yielded to him, and with a sigh, Bradley had accepted and promised that yielding did not meant losing.

 

“I love you” whispered Colin, without thinking.

 

A few months ago, these words would have frightened him. But now, pinned beneath Bradley in the middle of their deserted living room, looking at him by the light of the early afternoon’s sun, he felt like it was his duty to mouth them. Not because he knew Bradley had been waiting for them for the past year, but because he had been waiting for the right time to mutter them.

 

Bradley’s gaze softened even more, and his open lips slowly rose in a contented smile. Colin thought he had never looked so beautiful before.

 

The Englishman bent down and placed a soft kiss on Colin’s open lips, without closing his eyes. It was more of a soft meeting of lips than a kiss, and Colin abstained from closing his eyes too. Bradley knew how to be tender, but this level of tenderness was new. Colin traced figures with his fingers along his lover’s back, losing himself in the brush of lips. Bradley had begun to slowly map a road along Colin’s hipbones, slowly bringing his trousers down, almost in an imperceptible movement.

 

This had to be the closest encounter they had ever shared. They needed no words, only shared breaths. Bradley’s slow caresses were enough to arouse Colin, and Colin’s embrace was enough to lead Bradley into compliance.

 

Bradley was the one who, without breaking eye contact, began to take Colin’s clothes off. He pushed his shirt up, caressing his chest with his fingertips and flung it across the room after his lover disentangled himself from it. After that, they lost count as to who took whose clothes off. Only when Colin reached down, pulling his socks off, maddened by Bradley’s skin touching his body, did they realized they were completely naked.

 

Before casting away his hoodie, Bradley had taken out a condom and lube from one of its pockets. Colin’s cock had twitched at the sight of those two objects, and Bradley smiled mischievously above him as he clearly felt this against his lower belly. This was the only naughty moment they shared all afternoon.

 

The moment Bradley opened Colin up with his fingers, slowly kissing his jaw and losing himself in Colin’s sighs, they forgot about the space they were in. They were completely lost in each other.

 

They were intoxicated with their shared breaths, blinded by the contact of their skin.

 

Bradley replaced his fingers with his cock, slowly driving in and letting Colin adjust. Their bodies were intertwined, and they were so close their eyelashes clashed against each other. They hadn’t uttered a word, afraid to break the spell. They began to rock against each other without breaking eye contact.

 

Bradley raised himself up, supporting his weight on his elbows. It was a slow rhythm, led mainly by Bradley, leaving Colin the task to add a twist of the hips suddenly, or a push of the hips without warning.

 

Colin’s hands had found his way down to Bradley’s lower back and he pushed his lover’s hips down, helping himself up with his legs which rested on his hips. Bradley dived down from time to time, without breaking the rhythm, to kiss Colin’s chest or to bite his earlobe. Only sighs filled the room, echoing on the high ceiling. As the rhythm began to quicken, and as Colin’s eyes began to close themselves against his own will, moans clashed with sighs.

 

Bradley’s elbows where now next to Colin’s ears, his face pressed entirely against the side of Irishman’s face. He was moaning against his ear, lost in the heat of the moment. The pace had quickened, yet it was not erratic. Colin could feel each thrust, and with each retreat, he felt the need to stop this. He wanted to stop, not because he disliked what he felt, but because he felt it so strongly it scared him a bit. The feeling had started on the pit of his stomach and had slowly risen, climbed up his throat and was now hiding in the back of his mouth. As Bradley turned his head and began kissing him in a passionate, yet soothing manner, he decided that this was what he wanted.

 

He wanted that feeling, stuck on the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. And he wanted Bradley’s lips on his own, tongue inside his mouth. He wanted his hands in his hair, gripping it without pulling. He wanted his outer thigh against his lowered inner thigh, as much as he wanted the feel of his cock inside of him.

 

It was scary, and wonderful and breath-taking. It was getting lost in the brush of skin and the meeting of tongues.

 

Without warning, Bradley stopped kissing him and raised himself up so he could stare down at Colin. The complete adoration in Bradley’s gaze and the last slow deep thrust were enough to make Colin arch his back, burying his fingertips in Bradley’s back, as he came with a low moan.

 

Bradley followed him two seconds later.

 

 

It took Colin fifteen minutes to recover his breath, and twenty to catch up with his elevated heartbeat.

 

He felt Bradley’s lips on his neck, his thumb caressing his hipbone slowly, chest still heaving with its quickened breath. He was muttering something, and Colin knew he had been doing it for the past twenty minutes without him noticing it. He couldn’t make out the words at first; the warmth of Bradley’s breath on his neck was too distracting.

 

When he finally figured out the words, repeated like a mantra against his neck, he became conscious of the fact that he was utterly lost. Recovering his breath and lowering his heartbeat to a healthy rhythm were easy tasks.

 

But he was sure it would take him a whole life to recover his heart if Bradley ever let it fall.

 

He felt like crying, knowing full well that this was the sweetest panic he had ever felt at the prospect of losing someone. Colin let his eyes close, surrendering to the feeling that scorched his heart, leaving a scar deeper than he ever thought possible.

 

And the scar was etched with the same words Bradley kept whispering over and over again against his neck.

 

_“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…”_

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas had always been a source of excitement for Bradley.

 

The paper crown hats and the Christmas crackers were his favorite since he learnt how to crawl. His mother told him how he had once eaten his crown at age two, and ended pooping purple for days. She loved to remind him of that anecdote, in front of the whole family. Bradley knew the best reaction was to laugh and stay silent. The more he complained, the more his mother dragged the anecdote with details.

 

The Christmas tree was another of his favorites, especially the fairy lights. As a kid, he remembered spending whole Sundays lying under the tree, watching the lights twinkle as he heard his sisters playing in the background, the smell of cranberry pie coming from the kitchen, along with the sound of Christmas carols his mum loved to listen to. If he was lucky, he would get a slice of pie and eat it under the tree, without his mother knowing, of course.

 

Christmas was a magical time, and as he grew up he made himself think it was still magical. Not because he believed the lights were real fairies or that eating cranberry pie for a whole month was healthy, but because he could go back in time with the simple smell of pine.

 

He remembered that only two years ago, his Christmas had been entirely different. No family, no friends, just one person by his side.

 

Colin had been reluctant to desert his family on Christmas day just so he could spend it with Bradley, but in the end, after he called his brother Neil and learned all his family was meeting in his house – “all” meaning those cousins he always found himself hating without trying – he decided upon spending Christmas in London.

 

He had spent the week prior to Christmas calling his mum and apologizing every five seconds. Bradley found that terribly cute, and apparently, Mrs. Morgan found it extremely annoying. So, three days before Christmas Colin had stopped calling her and decided to enjoy what he had, or so, he had told Bradley.

 

They had already set the Christmas tree by then and the festive decorations where everywhere in their flat. Bradley had set mistletoe on every doorstep, and under every commonly used space. That ended in disaster. Apparently, Colin thought that having to burn their sofa’s cushions was a crime, but letting them stay there when they had been – in Bradley’s words – raped by two men, was worse.

 

Colin ended cooking two dinners, one vegetarian and one with a lot of meat, because letting his lover cook his own meat was suicidal. Bradley had spent almost an entire day lounging on the kitchen, sometimes being driven back to the small dining room they had. He had always loved watching Colin cook. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, and the easy movements of his hands, carefully creating a bean curd medallion as well as pigs in a blanket was one of Bradley’s favorite sights. The slight shudder that ran throughout his body as he took the bacon without trying to think of the poor pig that died just so Bradley could eat. The tentative smile on his lips as he tasted the Brussels sprouts and chestnuts. The furtive glances he directed towards Bradley, without saying a word, but having an entire conversation just with one look.

 

They had pulled each other’s crackers – not without a dirty comment from Bradley, of course – and ended eating more that they should have. That night, they had simply cuddled. After washing the dishes and singing Christmas carols while doing so, stopping once in a while to kiss, they felt in the mood to simply sleep next to each other

 

It had been the perfect Christmas, and Bradley had thought back then that this was what he liked about it. He liked the rise and fall of Colin’s chest, pressed by his side, and the smell of chestnuts in his hair. He liked his fingernails dusted with flour and the way his lips parted as he fell into deeper sleep. It had been a Christmas without a game of poker with his sisters or without a hug from his mother, but it had been Christmas all right. One he would never forget.

 

His last Christmas had been spent with the cast and crew of ‘Merlin’, and their intimacy had been much more subdued. But he could still recall the way Colin gripped his hand the moment the final episode started.

 

 _Guess this time around, I’ll have to play three games of poker to stop myself from calling him,_ thought Bradley as he came back to the present with the sound of the oven, telling him it was pre-heated and ready.

 

He had invited his family over to his flat. He had found no real desire to go back home and no bravery to spend Christmas alone.

 

The past months had been easy, compared to the ones before them. November had arrived and with it, the courage to do what he never thought himself capable of. He had bought some cardboard boxes and spent an entire day depositing Colin’s forgotten objects inside. The socks in the laundry room were gone, along with the books from the coffee table, the toothbrush, the ‘Merlin’ script, even his pillow.

 

It had been raining that day, November 12th, and he had felt a shock of cold wind as he stepped into the attic room. The rain had been falling into the roof window, drowning all other sounds. He had been grateful for that, for he had slowly taken every single postcard, magazine clipping and photographs off the wall, knowing full well that his heart was beating faster than the moment when he said the words “I think I’m in love with you” to Colin, four years and three months earlier.

 

He had done it mechanically, without stopping to look at the smiling faces in the photographs or the memories scribbled behind the postcards. The last photo he took off the wall was the one Colin had decided to separate from the others, segregating his life with him from the life he shared with other people. He had simply stashed it on top of all the other clippings, closing the box lid without even blinking. The moment he rolled the carpet, let a sheet fall on top of the puff sofa and made up his mind as to giving the discarded bookshelf to one of his sisters, he had sighed and smiled.

 

It had been the final test, the final scratch of the closed wound transformed into scar.

 

The quiet satisfaction he felt, the sense of pride at his own strength of mind was something he still remembered. He had felt at peace in the attic room filled with the sound of the falling rain against the window pane. He had picked up the pieces one by one, all by himself, and he felt renewed.

 

He was not the same person he had been more than four years ago. He was free to be different if he wanted, or free to be the same person he had been before Colin.

 

He had left the cardboard boxes there, in the attic, under the freezing rain. Next year, he would renew the space and make it his.

 

Now, on Christmas morning, he felt like calling Colin. He felt only a certain curiosity, a veiled feeling of worry towards the man who made him so happy and so miserable, and who had made him stronger by the simple act of leaving him.

 

As he put the turkey – of course he had bought it already seasoned and ready to heat and eat – into the oven, he knew that if he did call him, he would only feel a sense of silent acceptance. His life was slowly retaking its course. He had several plans for the year ahead, between them a miniseries for the BBC and a minor, although not background, role for a Hollywood movie.

 

He had plans of moving to L.A. and going to parties with old friends, and meeting new people. And who knew, he may even meet a girl or a boy who eclipsed Colin altogether. His sister once told him that love is always new and always grand and not two loves are alike.

 

He had hope in a future, both personal and professional. Not the same future he had envisioned less than a year ago, but a future nonetheless.

 

He looked around the kitchen, approving of the roasted potatoes and the stuffing waiting to be heated. His mum and sisters would arrive in less than half an hour, and they would surely scold him for buying prepared food, accusing him of being lazy and inconsiderate. He would retort with logic, explaining that if he had cooked, they would all probably enjoy their last meal at his table. To die in a well cooked feast is grand; to die in a feast cooked by Bradley is torture.

 

He smiled fondly. He couldn’t wait to see them.

 

The paper crown hats were waiting on the living room, the crackers were there too. He had set the Christmas tree all by himself, and as he was thinking of the best way to boast to his family about his dedication towards the Christmas decorations, the door bell rang.

 

Bradley looked towards the oven, checking the turkey and thanking all the gods that it wasn’t burnt yet. He could safely go and open the door without worrying about setting fire to the whole kitchen.

 

He washed his hands quickly in the kitchen sink, drying them in his denim trousers as he walked towards the front door.

 

He remembered, not without emitting a laugh, the mistletoe he had hung on the front door, just so he could bother his sisters with kisses.

 

No more than four steps away, his phone started ringing. He fumbled in his pockets, searching for the phone while trying to open the door. He finally found it on one of his back pockets and as he took it out and read “Sista #1” on the screen, he had to roll his eyes.

 

He turned the doorknob, already saying in the poshest voice he could muster “Honestly, Steph, your lack of patience will be the en-“

 

He was cut short by the sight before him.

 

The phone in his hand ringed one more time and suddenly stopped, letting the silence reign.

 

Standing before him, bathed under the same light he had said goodbye ten months ago, was Colin. A bag by his side, a backpack on his back, and a look of terrible panic on his eyes. Here he was, standing on his tiptoes like he always did whenever he was terrified of the situation. His hair was slightly longer than Bradley remembered, and it now curled around his prominent ears, hiding them. A shadow of stubble and his purple plaid hoodie made the blue of his eyes stand out.  They were watery and nervous, darting from the ceiling, to Bradley’s eyes, to his lips, to his hands, to the ground.

 

Without so much as a word, the Irishman let himself fall on the soles of his feet and took two steps.

 

Bradley only realized what was happening when he felt Colin lips on his own, his right hand tentatively falling on Bradley’s chest. It was a long, chaste kiss. Behind it, Bradley felt Colin’s breath stuttering, the hand resting lightly upon his breast was trembling.

 

Bradley refrained from closing his eyes, his grip tightened around the doorknob as Colin drew back, ending the kiss that Bradley had longed for so long, and had recently started to dread.

 

He knew now why he dreaded it. As Colin opened his eyes again and looked at him, his hand still on his chest, he remembered the long nights spent turning in bed, dreaming between dreams of his Col.

 

He dreaded his lips like he dreaded happiness. Nothing so perfect could exist in this life without a price.

 

“The mistletoe made me do it.”

 

Whispered Colin, voice trembling as he tried to smile. His eyes were full of tears, and Bradley was sure he was fighting with all his will to stop them from falling.

 

He couldn’t do this to himself; he couldn’t go back and do it all over again. He closed his eyes and took a breath in. He must not let him in. It was not his house anymore; he was not part of his life any longer. He had left, he had made his choice.

 

Bradley was about to raise his hand and slap the slender hand off his chest when four words made him lose all sense of direction or purpose. His knees weakened and his chest started to burn. He had breathed them out with a strained breath, cutting himself short mid phrase, only to finish after taking a breath in.

 

It was the emotional outburst of a child, hopelessly lost. Bradley opened his now watery eyes to find Colin’s face bathed in tears, the words still echoing in his ears.

 

“I’m dead… without you.”

 

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 _“Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names._ _It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed your forgiveness.”_

 _―_ _[Kahlil Gibran](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6466154.Kahlil_Gibran), [The Forerunner: His Parables and Poems](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2465459)_

 

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Colin heard Bradley stomping around the apartment, cursing loudly. It took him three minutes to find his keys and his hoodie, and he finished his scene by slamming the door behind him as he stepped outside the apartment, not without yelling “I hope you’re happy now, Morgan!”

 

The Irishman hadn’t seen any of these actions, he had just heard it all, up on his attic room.

 

This past week had been hell for both of them, and Bradley’s little scene had been repeated almost every night. It had started with little misunderstandings two months ago, and along the past week, the misunderstandings had escalated and turned to real verbal confrontations.

 

They had arguments before, but not like the ones they had over the week. The exchanges started mild and cool, and ended extremely fierce and violent on Bradley’s side and cold and unattached on Colin’s.

 

In between the fights, in the long nights spent sleeping in the attic room, watching the stars under the roof window, Colin had thought again and again how harshly their personalities clashed every time they had a misunderstanding.

 

Bradley was fire, impulse and raw energy. Colin was ice, logical thinking and measured reactions.

 

Every conflict had started with a word blurted out by Bradley, a word that hurt him without even meaning to. Colin would answer with a harsh response, sometimes even violently spitted out of his mouth. Bradley reacted quickly and brutally, defending himself and his argument like a dog would defend his food. Colin would stare at him, without saying a word. The moment Colin answered with a simple “Whatever, Bradley”, trying to regain peaceful ground, the Englishman only boiled even more. The turning point of the fight was the moment Bradley started cursing, or even worse, started pushing Colin into fighting back through harsh words. Colin would choose that moment to get out of the room and slowly retreat to his attic room, leaving a maddened Bradley behind, and he sometimes even followed him all the way to the trap door, yelling up at him even after he took the stairs up and closed the door.

 

Colin knew he had to find a better way to react to Bradley’s violent outbursts.

 

But this time around, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. This time Bradley had shamelessly told him, casually while they were drinking tea in the kitchen, that Colin was a coward for not telling his family about them.

 

There are two things Colin would never accept. One, anyone telling him that acting was not a career and being passionate about something like that was wasting time and energy. And two, anyone telling him to do something concerning his family.

 

It was _his_ family, after all.

 

He had answered that, and Bradley had stayed silent for a moment. Colin had thought he understood, he was not new at this, he knew Colin well enough. So, it was a surprise when he actually answered “What happened to changing all the ‘mine’s to ‘our’s? Maybe you forgot that I’m actually here”.

 

He had looked half annoyed, half hurt. Colin was tired of fighting; they had been at each other’s throat for the past week. So, the moment he answered he was trying to find a common ground, and what he got was the opposite.

 

“Maybe you forgot that I have a life without you, James”.

 

He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he was tired of the silly game they were playing. They had finished filming ‘Merlin’, and the finale had aired more than two months ago. They were both sick of trying to find something to do without actually doing anything. They couldn’t go out together, not even to the convenience store. The only friends they had were their ex-co-stars and more than three-quarters of them didn’t even know they lived together, or that they had been _together_ for the past three years and a half.

 

Bradley was anxious, desperate at the lack of projects in film, TV or theatre. Colin was apprehensive, nervous about his upcoming projects, both in TV and theatre.

 

The Englishman was probably jealous and ashamed at being so. Colin knew he needed him; he needed all the support he could have now that he was having doubts about his career and the days to come. But that didn’t meant Colin didn’t need it too.

So, they took it out on each other in the worst way possible.

 

The argument had turned brutal after Colin’s answer. Bradley was hurt, and he showed it by yelling, not even slowing down the moment he started to say how much of a bastard – his word – Colin could be when he felt like hurting him. He went on and on about the things he lacked and the things he had excess of. Between the defects he enunciated about his lover were: cold-hearted, workaholic, senseless, heedless, selfish and rigid.

 

The Irishman had not backed down this time, and he had answered back, not by yelling but by whispering between clenched teeth. He had called Bradley arrogant, headstrong, overdependent, greedy, intolerant, and lazy.

 

The fight lasted for half an hour, and by the time Bradley shouted “Why don’t you just run away now?! Go and hide yourself in _your_ attic room and leave me alone!”, Colin was more than ready to do so. He had simply turned around and left the kitchen, mounting the stairs two at a time as he heard a glass break and a curse behind him.

 

The moment he reached the last landing, he heard Bradley shouting “And maybe your family is better off not knowing about us!”

 

He had answered, shouting back, losing his patience and his self control at last. “There’s no _us!”_

Sitting on his puff sofa now, twenty minutes after Bradley slammed the door behind him, he wished he hadn’t answered. There was an “us”,of course there was. Maybe not up here in the attic room, but down below in their room, in the entirety of _their_ flat.

 

He looked ahead and found himself cursing under his breath. Even here, there they were. On a photograph taken on their kitchen, with the camera they had bought in Cardiff.

 

Colin sighed as he looked at his wristwatch. They had to be at Katie’s in less than an hour for the dinner she had been planning for the past month. Everyone would be there, Katie had said Angel, Rupert, Adetomiwa, Santiago, Tom, Eoin, Alex and maybe even Emilia had confirmed. It would be suspicious if only Colin and Bradley were absent.

 

Colin felt tightness in his chest at the mere thought of spending a whole evening faking laughter next to Bradley when in truth, he wanted to curl in bed and sleep for days. He wanted his old bed, the one back in his room in Armagh, the one his mother always kept ready if he ever felt like surprising them with a visit.

 

He hadn’t been back home in more than a year. The past Christmas and New Year had been spent, the first in a party with the cast and crew of ‘Merlin’ so they could all watch the final episode live, and the second in a simple and remarkably filthy celebration of the New Year and his birthday, mainly in the bedroom of their flat.

 

The London fog was getting on his nerves, and Bradley’s annoying attitude towards him was driving him insane. The past week had been terrible, but if he was honest, ever since 2013 arrived, he had felt out of place. He felt out of his own skin, living a life through somebody else’s eyes.

 

Bradley’s kisses seemed rough and indifferent, his touch felt coarse and crude. His words had seemed to lack its brilliance, and his glowing smile had practically disappeared. They would dance around each other every day, sometimes even forgetting to speak to each other.

 

Bradley would wake up early and go for a run, while Colin made himself breakfast and refrained from cooking for Bradley, after he had once told him he was never hungry after exercising. Then, Colin would either meet his agent and discuss the latest projects or meet with the appointed producers from the projects he had already confirmed. He would eat lunch out, sometimes alone. Then, he would either go walk around the city, losing himself in a museum or art gallery. He would smile at the children who recognized him and accept the rushed words of the teenage girls who dared approach him. On occasions, he would research on the library about his next characters, or meet an old Drama School friend. He would return then to the flat, sometimes before dinner, sometimes after it. Bradley would be watching TV or cooking some meat and he would welcome him with a peck.

 

Only after showering and changing, maybe after relaxing for a bit on the attic room, would Colin meet Bradley in bed and they would talk in the dark. After fifteen or twenty minutes Bradley would either turn around and mutter “Good night, Cols”, or scoot closer and start kissing his neck. They only had rushed, panting sex now, no more slow, torturing love making any longer.

 

Colin stood up, trying to clear his head in preparation for the party. He wasn’t sure Bradley was comfortable with him anymore, or if this diminishment of passion in their relationship was a sign of real comfort on Bradley’s side. Maybe his lover felt cozy enough to stop trying to coo Colin every second of the day. Maybe he felt secure enough to stop sharing with him his thoughts.

If that was the case, Colin didn’t like it, because it sure didn’t feel comfortable for him.

They had to talk, not yell at each other, actually talk.

 

He opened the trap door and descended the stairs, realizing with sudden panic that he longed for solitude. He didn’t want to talk; he just wanted to stop having to seclude himself in an attic to feel really content, or to wander around the city to forget about the “us” and “their”.

 

His phone on the bedside table chirped suddenly, and Colin walked towards it after closing the trap door. The screen almost punched him in the face as he unlocked the phone. There, on big letters was the nickname Bradley had set for himself in his phone.

 

_One new message from Bradley I, King of England, Northern Ireland and Colin._

He tapped on it, taking a breath in.

 

“I’m heading to Katie’s by myself just to stop myself from listening to your complaints about how to explain why we arrived together. See you there… or not. Your choice. It’s Bradley, by the way. Just in case you already deleted my number.”

 

He dropped the phone on the bed and turned towards the closet. Bradley was probably going to meet his “Knights” on a pub and get royally pissed before arriving at Katie’s. He knew him well enough to know that he needed to blow out steam before meeting him again. That left him the duty to arrive early at Katie’s and excuse Bradley for being such an asshole.

 

He decided against this. Defending Bradley was not something he was up to at the moment. Besides, Katie and Angel would probably ask the inevitable and he sure wasn’t about to start venting his relationship problems with two girls, even if they were really close friends.

 

He walked down the stairs and picked up the first book he found on the coffee table. He had left it there the day before, and it was time to lose himself in it again, at least for two more hours or so. Bradley was cracked if he thought he would wait for him and throw himself in his arms the moment he walked through Katie’s door.

 

Colin hated being late, but this time he had a reason. Katie would probably reproach him for months afterwards, but he didn’t care. If Bradley could go and get pissed with his mates, he sure could stay curled up in the sofa and read.

 

If he registered one word out of ten, well, that was just a technicality.

 

 

Two and a half hours later, Colin knocked on Katie’s door. The quantity of noise behind it was so, that Colin was afraid they wouldn’t hear the knock. He knocked again and waited.

The tapping of high heels was heard above the sound of shouts and cat calls.

 

After serious cursing in a deep Irish accent, Katie finally opened the door. Colin raised his eyebrows as she threw herself against him, screaming close to his ear “Coliiin, we thought you weren’t coming!” She was drunk, and that meant that she had consumed serious amounts of alcohol. Katie was no light head.

 

“Come on in, come on iiiiin, the party is a-may-zing!” she screamed as she took him by the arm and nearly dragged him inside the house towards the living room. There was no music, only shouts and snippets of drunken conversation issuing from it.

 

“Angel and I invited a couple of female mates and we are playing spin-the-bottle, like in all those American movies”, Katie said between trying to recover her balance and actually advancing while dragging Colin along.

 

“Like in all those preteens American movies, you mean” Colin answered with a laugh, feeling too sober for this.

 

Finally, after what felt like twenty minutes they entered the living room and the sight they met froze Colin’s blood.

 

There, in the middle of the room, was Bradley. Around him where the Knights and a bunch of unknown girls along with Angel. Eoin was cat calling, Tom was laughing drunkenly and Rupert was shouting “One Mississippi, two Mississippis…” while the girls giggled.

 

Bradley was in the middle of the room but he was not alone. He was kissing – no, making out – with a redheaded girl on a mini skirt and high heels. His hands were on her hips, pushing her in towards him. The girl’s fingers were deep in Bradley’s hair, totally concentrated in his tongue.

 

Colin couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t look away from the man he thought he once adored and currently felt doubtful about. He recognized the way his fingers clutched in the girl’s hips because he had felt it innumerable times. He recognized the intake of breath every five seconds because he felt it every day against his lips. The way his left foot turned outward and his right foot slightly inward.

 

He couldn’t do this anymore.

 

Yes, Bradley had done this before. He could still remember one night in the hiatus between filming series 4 and 5 of ‘Merlin’. They had met with the Knights in a pub in London and Eoin had found a beautiful girl and started flirting right away. The girl, oblivious to him, had turned to Bradley. The moment the girl had stood up and headed towards the bar to bring Bradley a drink, the Knights including Eoin had encouraged him. Colin had spent an hour watching his boyfriend flirt with a gorgeous girl who was more than willing to flirt – and much more – back. He had even leaned in twice to kiss her, and the girl had kissed him back without reserves. In the middle of the night, Bradley had turned to Colin with an apologetic look, trying to plea with him through a look. The Irishman had done something then, and he still thought it had been one of his best ideas by far. He leaned in and whispered in Bradley’s ear “Let’s take her back home and have a threesome”.

 

That had been back when they shared passionate nights and playful encounters and weren’t afraid to take back home a girl who didn’t recognize them and fuck her senseless.

 

But this time around, they weren’t playing anymore. This was the turning point. This confirmed in Colin’s mind so much more than just a simple “confusion of feelings”. In truth, he felt nothing but anger. Not jealousy, not homicidal thoughts, just anger towards himself for letting this happen.

 

His boyfriend was making out with a girl in front of their friends and even know, he wasn’t brave enough to stop him and tell everyone they were together.

 

In all honesty, he didn’t want that. Because now, for the first time, he realized the feelings he felt towards Bradley were gone and the remains were only hate towards himself for letting this drag on.

 

It hurt, of course it hurt. But it hurt to know that he wasn’t capable of feeling hurt because of Bradley, but feeling hurt because at his own stupidity. He should had realized it was the end the moment he started straying from the flat, walking farther and farther from it and taking longer to come back.

 

He didn’t want to fix this. He only wanted to be alone.

 

After Rupert shouted the “seven Mississippi”, Colin turned towards Katie and said “I’m sorry, I have to go, I’ll call you later and we’ll plan something, OK?”

 

Katie turned around, her eyes opening wide and looking hurt only like drunks are capable of. “But you’ve only just arrived! Stay and play with us!”

 

She was so drunk she didn’t even register the fact that Bradley, Colin’s boyfriend, was making out with a girl in her living room. She was one of the few people who knew about them, and thanks to the alcohol, she was oblivious to it.

 

Colin patted her arm and murmured a quick “I’m sorry”, and turned around and left.

 

Just before exiting the living room, he heard Eoin’s shout of “Hey! Colin’s here!” He didn’t stop and turn around to see Bradley reaction, he simply kept on walking.

 

The cold wind of February hit him square in the chest as he finally closed the front door behind him. He had walked here, and he could walk back to the flat.

 

 _It’s possibly the last time I will anyway_ , he thought not without a feeling of bitterness.

 

He had taken about ten steps when he heard Katie’s front door opening and Bradley’s voice behind him.

 

“Colin! Wait!” he shouted as he closed the door and ran towards him.

 

The Irishman did the only thing he thought of doing to torture Bradley. He started to run too.

 

 

They arrived back in the flat, Colin running up the stairs and Bradley following close behind, they were short of breath and barely standing. Bradley had opened the front door and turned on the light inside the door. Before the Englishman could start talking, Colin found the words he wanted to say, and broke the silence with a whisper.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The moment the words came out of him mouth, he saw Bradley’s world crash behind the façade of his eyes. He stood motionless, at first too shocked to register the meaning of the words, but slowly finding meaning behind them.

 

After a couple of minutes of being completely still, Bradley started to shake his head, denying silently.

 

“I’m sorry, Bradley” repeated Colin, a stray tear running down his left cheek without him registering it. He was still trying to catch his breath and the tear had come without warning. It was the thousand words he would never say, and he knew Bradley understood it.

 

“You’re… _sorry_?” Bradley swallowed between words, spitting them out in the middle of a shaky breath. He looked lost and heartbroken and for a moment Colin only wanted to wrap his arms around him and tell him it was all going to be all right.

 

But he couldn’t do it. He had to finish this.

 

“I can’t do this anymore. I just… can’t”. Colin slowly closed his eyes, aware of the fact that words hurt more than silence, but silence bites longer than words. He let the silence reign nevertheless, afraid to crush Bradley under words he would never forget.

 

He opened his eyes after a minute and found Bradley’s gaze on him. He stared back, aware of the tears on his cheeks and the terrible feeling of release in his chest. He couldn’t understand how he felt so free already, when right in front of him, the man he had loved so much seemed to be breaking apart.

 

Bradley slowly lifted his right arm and pointed to the door behind him. He looked away, letting his gaze fall towards the ground. His shoulders were down, the defeat showing in the simple flex of his muscles.

 

Colin felt a sudden rush of tenderness towards him. He remembered all the times they spent together. The laughter, the long talks, the trips they took and the songs they invented. Bradley’s hair by the morning sun and Bradley’s hands by the moonlight. His loving words and his hateful words. He remembered every single one of them.

 

As Bradley opened his mouth to say something, Colin realized this was the word. This was to be the word he would remember years from now. It was the final word and as Bradley finally said it, he was amazed at the simplicity of it.

 

It was not hateful, not loving, and not even personal. It was common, and that common word would haunt him forevermore.

 

“Leave.”

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

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_“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it?… But it is.”_

 

\- _[Dr. Iannis](http://www.imdb.com/character/ch0017294), [Captain Corelli's Mandolin](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0238112/)_  

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It had been the craziest week they had ever shared.

 

Christmas had passed and with it, the shock of the re-encounter. It had been the most bizarre holiday they had ever experienced. Right after Colin had uttered those four words right under their front door; Bradley had hugged him without even stopping to consider his actions. They had fallen into each other’s arms, silent and trembling. They shared no words, not even when Bradley had broken the hug and stepped aside, accepting Colin back into the flat.

 

The Irishman had immediately fluttered to the kitchen and as he saw the Christmas dinner waiting to be eaten, he dropped his bag and turned towards Bradley, who was following right behind him.

 

“Please, tell me you don’t have a new partner and this is the dinner for his/her family”.

 

In spite of the prickling behind his eyes, Bradley laughed. He had missed him so much. _His_ Colin, with his paranoia and obsessive-compulsive outbursts. Before he could answer, the phone on his hand began to ring again and he picked it up without even glancing at the screen.

 

“Hi, sister. Are you guys in London yet?”

 

Colin closed his eyes and let out a breath. His shoulders dropped and his eyebrows rose. He probably was the picture of relief. He had been expecting a gorgeous girl to walk in at any minute, being followed by her perfect family who would greet Bradley in a polite manner. In truth, he knew he deserved worse than that. Bradley should have closed the door on his face, calling him names from the other side. He should have denied knowing him, denied ever feeling anything but disdain towards him. He deserved that, and much more.

 

“Colin is here. Guess the roasted potatoes and the Brussels sprouts and chestnuts will have to wait for next year, he can’t possible eat anything with blood in it.”

 

Bradley swallowed as Colin blinked several times before him. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have let him in. He shouldn’t be here. Not now, when there were cardboard boxes on the attic room, finally filled with his things. Not now, when Bradley had finally found a rhythm in his everyday life without the beat of his heart.

 

And now, the Englishman was telling his sister Colin would be having Christmas dinner with them.

 

Bradley suddenly heard a scream on the other end of line. His sister fumbled with the phone and he finally heard his mother’s voice.

 

“What do you mean Colin is there?! What the hell happened?! We are fifteen minutes away from the flat, Bradley James. Explain now or suffer all Christmas.”

Colin heard this. He looked away, painfully aware that his presence was not welcomed. Not by Bradley’s family and surely not by Bradley. He had been gone for almost a year, and he was a fool if he thought the hope he felt the moment he decided to finally come back would be welcomed.

 

This was a mistake. His life was a mistake. He was not impulsive and this had been an impulse. He had been in Glasgow the past week and he came back to London only to re-schedule with his agent. Somehow, the plans he had to spend Christmas and New Year’s back in Armagh had gone to hell the moment he spotted a blonde man walking right beside the cab. He had been stuck in the London traffic for fifteen minutes, and the moment the man came into view, his gaze had blurred. The sudden longing he had felt for him, for _his_ Bradley, had been overwhelming. The knot on his chest had tightened and all the feelings he had been keeping at bay for the past ten months came flooding in. Work had kept him busy, and Bradley had only appeared on dreams. But this blonde man walking beside the cab had been a detonator. Like a spark on a barrel of gasoline, he suddenly felt like burning and crashing and dying if he didn’t go back and apologize. Apologize and beg if it was necessary. Do whatever it took to stop the everyday feeling of emptiness he had tried to keep at bay unconsciously by working almost 15 hours a day.

 

He was exhausted of faking his smiles.

 

“I said Colin is here, so he is here. See you in fifteen.”

 

Bradley ended the call without waiting for an answer. He dropped the phone in the floor, right next to Colin’s bag. He shrugged his shoulders, dropping his hands into his trousers pockets.

 

“There’s no him or her. There’s just me.”

 

He whispered, suddenly terrified at the thought of saying something else. Something like “and I don’t want you back” or “I’m OK with being alone”, because he did want him back and he was definitely not OK with being alone. He thought he was. Over the past months, he recovered much more than just his nerve. He had recovered the pieces of his heart that seemed to vanish without Colin, as well as the piece of motivation he had lacked for so long. But now, as Colin was standing before him, eyes watery and mouth hanging open, he knew he could never compare the pieces with the wholeness.

 

There is no a comparison between a river and the sea. You may learn to live by a river, get used to its abrupt changes and noises but you will never forget the sea, with its surging tides and inclusive sounds.

 

“There’s just me, too.”

 

Colin whispered back, aching to say more. What he truly wanted to say was that this was him. The one who loved him enough to understand that they had been wrong before, and the one who was willing to try again if the chance was given. He wanted to say to Bradley how utterly useless his life felt without him.

 

Now, he was aware of the fact that they had been on different planes all along. Colin had seen Bradley for what he was, and Bradley had idealized Colin, had thought of him as someone who was incapable of hurting him, when in truth, we all hurt each other whether we wish it or not.

 

“This is not fun, is it? It feels like I don’t know you and yet I know I do. I know you more now than before.”

 

Bradley said, not without a hint of scorn. Colin had come back and he felt no need to kiss him or take off his clothes and map his skin with his tongue. He felt no real need to proclaim his love in a thousand words. He only wanted to ask him how he was, what he had been doing and how much he had missed his presence. The passion he had felt towards him was gone, and only a low flame was burning at the bottom of his heart now, warming him up steadily and discreetly.

 

“Love is no fun. Real love is respect combined with subdued affection.” Colin answered, brow furrowing as he did.

 

Bradley felt silent at this, closing his mouth at the answer he was already about to spit out in indignation.

 

He was right.

 

All his life he had heard many things about love, but this was by far the most accurate description he had ever heard.

 

He had once thought love meant depositing all your attention on someone, forgetting yourself in another and never stopping to consider anything else but their happiness. But now he knew it was not so. Love is an act of two and its nature demands a balance.

 

He saw before him all the mistakes he had made in the past. He saw himself at seventeen, obsessed over his first real girlfriend, who left him a month later. He saw himself at twenty, afraid of the passionate carnal relationship he had with his first boyfriend. He remembered all his past “loves” and realized they had been no more than passing flings.

 

And then, he saw Colin before him and he realized the mistakes he had made with him.

 

The fights they had had because of Bradley’s over-attached personality and Colin’s moderated responses. The nights they had spent with their back towards each other after Colin had gone out with his friends and Bradley had taken revenge by going to a pub and getting drunk. Colin’s silent acceptance of Bradley’s attitude towards girls whenever his mates were around, just so he could keep up the act of being single. All those times Bradley had demanded more passion of Colin, more interest in keeping up the fire in their relationship.

 

Bradley had asked for ardor when in fact, Colin felt something much more solemn. He had felt what can only be felt once in a lifetime. Serene.

 

Only now did Bradley realized how mistaken he had been. How utterly far he had been from understanding Colin’s feeling towards him. He had recurred to the attic room to get an idea of his love when in fact, he understood nothing about love.

 

He had understood what everyone understands about love, which is .001%. But only now he understood that Colin had once felt infatuated like everyone else feels at first, but it had faded over time and transformed into a muted love. The kind of love only a lucky few get to experience and the only kind of love that lasts.

 

Colin was standing before him, silent. And the moment the oven started beeping, announcing that the turkey was ready, Bradley felt it.

 

It was not a romantic moment, nor the best of times, but it had come like everything worth living for comes. Slowly, without tinkling bells or background music. And it started in his mind instead of in his gut, with a feeling of expanse instead of a feeling of contraction.

 

“I love you.”

 

He whispered, not with a rushed exhalation but with a full, conscious breath.

 

Right before him, Colin didn’t swoon or started sobbing. There was not an explosion of affection on his face or a sudden action result of an overexcited mind.

 

Gradually, he smiled. Not a full, flashing smile, but a subtle, exquisite smile. Bradley softened his gaze the moment he remembered Katie had once named that smile. It was “Bradley’s smile”.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

Colin whispered back, firmly and without faltering between words. It was more of a statement than a phrase.

 

They stood there, not moving towards each other. A hug or a kiss was not necessary. Their simple presence was enough to remind each other that this was real and the words exchanged were not just words, but acknowledgements.

 

So, when Bradley walked pass Colin to take the turkey out of the oven and Colin followed him to take out the dishes, they felt no discomfort. Five minutes later, Bradley opened the door and let his mother and sisters in, letting them drift towards the kitchen to meet Colin between hugs and kisses.

 

When Bradley’s mother whispered to him “You better explain now, mister” he simply answered “Some things are better left unexplained”.

 

The Christmas dinner was loud thanks to the James family, but for Colin and Bradley it was the calmest dinner they had ever shared. They didn’t kick at each other under the table or shared inner jokes through looks, they simply ate side by side, elbows touching from time to time.

 

In less than half an hour their lives had turned. Not by being violently shattered and mended again, but by being slowly set in the road of ease.

 

 

Six days after Christmas, they decided it was time to talk.

 

Colin had declined Bradley’s offer of buying a bed and setting it in the attic room. He had had two valid reasons. One, a bed wouldn’t fit through the attic door; and two, he wanted no more secrets between them and no more secluded spaces. So, the Irishman had turned to the red sofa he had selected for their flat more than four years ago. Three days after Christmas they had shared their first joke. Colin had said his back hurt and Bradley casually answered it was probably the gap his gorgeous buttocks had left in the sofa.

 

Now they were sitting on the high stools of the kitchen counter, across from each other. It was December 30th and the year was ending. Bradley wanted to finish it in a proper way, and he was sure by the way Colin kept turning his cup of tea around and around, that he wanted that too.

 

They sat in silence for a while, comfortable in the shared intimacy they had discovered ever since Colin described love in the same kitchen they were at.

 

Bradley took a sip of his tea – Irish, he suddenly realized – and started the conversation he had been planning in bed, right before falling sleep, for the past six days.

 

“I really want to throw you a birthday party, and only as an addition, a New Year’s party.”

 

Colin stopped playing with his cup and looked up.

 

“You mean a party on your standards, with tons of strangers, alcohol and greasy food?”

 

“I mean a party on _your_ standards, where we only invite our close friends and pretend to be pissed when we’ve only had a pint of beer.”

 

Colin looked down and smiled shyly. Bradley thought he looked pleased. He had to take advantage of that to drop the small bomb in the conversation.

 

“And I think I’d be nice if we actually told them about us.”

 

At this, Colin’s smile faltered a bit. He bit his lower lip, fingers wrapping around the cup. This was it, Bradley knew it. This was the moment Colin would either deny the possibility of their gradual reconciliation or confirm what Bradley was sure he wanted as much as him.

 

Maybe he was asking too much, but Colin had said he wanted no more secrets. He had said “between them”, but a secret kept from their close relations was a secret that eventually gnawed at the foundations of any relationship. He had learned that with time. He only hoped Colin had too.

 

“I think…” Colin started, biting down hard on his lip.

 

He was suddenly nervous again, Bradley could see it. He hadn’t been nervous since the kiss they had shared under the mistletoe. Maybe he also realized this was the moment of truth, after six days of dancing around each other and sharing only monosyllables.

 

Suddenly, Colin looked up and stared at Bradley. He untangled his fingers and reached out across the counter, finding Bradley’s hand and lightly covering it with his own.

 

“I think I love you too much to hide it any longer.”

 

Bradley had to bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming. He got up and walked around the counter, aware of the fact that Colin had turned in the high stool as he did so. The moment he reached him, Colin opened his legs, letting Bradley in between them. He wrapped his arms around his waist and Bradley softly let his hand caress his face, tenderly. They stayed like that for a minute, amazed at the contradictory feelings they got through the touch. It ached in the pit of the stomach, like a force pulling down upon their bodies. And it unshackled the mind, like a wind at the top of a mountain.

 

Finally, they both gave in. Colin reached up as Bradley descended upon him. They met with a kiss, their eyes open. Only after a moment did they close their eyes, losing themselves in each other’s breaths. This kiss was not hesitant, nor was it filled with disorientation or perplexity. It was painfully affectionate, deep and delicate at the same time.

 

Only when they parted did Bradley mouth against Colin’s lips.

 

“I think I love you too much to stop myself from showing it any longer.”

 

 

 

December 31st dawned at 7:15 a.m.

 

Bradley knew the exact time because the moment he looked away from the clock, he saw the first ray of sunlight hit Colin across the scar he had on his lower back. The same scar he had fervently kissed the night before again and again.

 

His lover, it was more than pleasant calling him that again, was lying on his stomach, facing towards him, his hand on his chest.

 

They hadn’t fallen to bed, tripping all over the flat on the way, the moment they started kissing on the kitchen. They had planned the party, called the guests and even gone out to buy all the necessary things.

 

Only late at night had Colin opened the door, timidly holding the pillow Bradley had fished out of the cardboard box in the attic for him, and asked if he could sleep in the bed tonight.

 

Bradley had smiled and opened his arms as he answered “Tonight, and all the nights to come.”

 

They had made love. Quiet, slow movements between whispers. No farfetched promises between kisses or silly jokes between moans. They had given unto each other the gift of silence, only broken by quiet sighs from time to time.

 

Bradley had come deep inside of him, and Colin’s response was to stare up at him and smile as he closed his eyes, following right behind as Bradley tugged slightly on his cock.

 

Now, by the light of the dawn, Colin’s scar was more precious to Bradley than all his calm responses to his past outbursts or the habit he had of playing with his hair when he couldn’t sleep.

 

He could deal perfectly fine with his virtues; he had learned that the moment he fell in love with him. But his flaws, his scars along with his faults, the habit he had of staying silent when he was hurt and the intense passion he felt towards his work, sometimes forgetting everything else in the way, were now dearer to Bradley than all positive assets.

 

All of a sudden, Colin’s breathing pattern changed. Bradley had slept next to him enough times to know he was slowly awakening. First, he stretched his legs, and then he stretched his back. Slowly he began to blink, first lazily, then more vigorously. When he took the first, long breath in, Bradley reached down and kissed his scar, still bathed in the ray of sun.

 

He chuckled, his whole body reverberating with it. He snuggled closer to Bradley, who was now resting his head on Colin’s pillow. They kissed, slowly and drowsily, enjoying the sudden warmth shared between them.

 

They stared at each other for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. When they finally got up, a full half an hour had passed.

 

They didn’t share the shower, but they shared breakfast and after that they decided to stroll around the city. It was New Year’s Eve morning, and a Tuesday, so Hyde Park was deserted, and they spent their morning simply walking, ignoring the cold and talking about all the things they had done in the months they had been apart. They talked about it without a hint of bitterness or remorse, they simply accepted all they had accomplished in the time between, even sharing the silly stories. Bradley told Colin about the mob of teenagers that followed him around a convenience store, finally asking for a photo, and Colin told Bradley – and he laughed for half an hour after hearing it – how a forty year old man had asked for an autograph when he had entered a public toilet.

 

They ate their lunch at the Lido Bar and Café and decided to go back to the flat after a threatening cloud began to advance towards them right when they were in the middle of Kensington Gardens. It began to snow the moment they reached the car.

 

Katie, Angel, Rupert and Tom had promised to arrive early – too damned early, in Katie’s words – to help them organize everything. In truth, they only wanted early access to the alcohol corner, before Eoin swiped in and drank bottle after bottle.

 

So, at 6:15 p.m. the doorbell rang and Colin ran to open the door, without thinking more about it. He was greeted by two pairs of arms who pulled him in into a hug. When Angel and Katie finally released him, Rupert and Tom patted him on the back, handing him the alcohol they had kindly brought with them.

 

“It’s been so damn long, Morgan. I hate you a bit for being so talented and having amazing projects all the time.” Katie was already letting herself fall in the sofa, followed by Angel.

 

“So, where’s Prince Charming? Bet he’s cooking the only thing he can. Nice and greasy chips.” Angel added, moving to the right so Tom and Rupert could sit.

 

“They are not greasy, but they are very very nice, _An_ gel!” Bradley shouted from the kitchen, cursing loudly after saying the words.

 

Colin rolled his eyes. He had probably burned himself with the oil.

 

“Prince Charming is not very charming. Oh, well, we always knew it.” Katie said, shrugging her shoulders with an overdramatic sigh.

 

“I heard that, McGrath!” Bradley answered. After two seconds, he cursed again, this time louder.

 

Colin laughed openly and turned around, leaving behind his four co-stars laughing away at a joke Rupert cracked.

 

Bradley was licking his right thumb finger, cursing the oil under his breath. Colin looked behind him, knowing full well that the kitchen was not visible from the couch but checking out of habit, and he advanced towards Bradley, wrapping his hands around his waist.

 

“Let me” he added, as he took Bradley’s right hand and kissed his thumb.

 

Bradley chuckled and half turned, kissing Colin on the brow.

 

“My hero” He said, half mockingly, half fond.

 

When Katie shouted “Stop making out with Prince Charming and bring us some chips, Morgan!”, Colin rolled his eyes, took the plate full of chips on the counter and headed towards the living room.

 

“Cols”, he turned around as Bradley called his name. He was gazing at a nervous looking Bradley, with an apron on and a spatula on his hand. He was biting his lips, a thousand thoughts behind his eyes.

 

Colin walked back and said to him in a low voice.

 

“Don’t worry, they’re our friends. The only difference is that after tonight, they’ll mock us with gay jokes directed to us instead of gay jokes directed to Merlin and Arthur.”

 

Bradley smiled weakly, and Colin closed the distance and kissed him.

 

He only broke contact when Katie started shouting again for chips, being followed almost immediately by Angel, Rupert and Tom. Before walking past the threshold, he looked back and smiled. Bradley smiled back and mouthed “I love you” before turning his attention again to the almost burnt chips.

 

 

 

They never discussed the speech they would give, or the way they would act towards each other after they had announced that they were together.

 

So, when the New Year countdown ended, and Bradley turned to Colin to wish him a Happy New Year and Happy Birthday, they didn’t even hesitate before closing the space and sharing a kiss.

 

Only after ten seconds did they realize they were surrounded by people. When they parted they were sure they would find gaping mouths and fingers pointed at them. They only found two beaming girls, Angel and Katie, and Eoin punching the air as he shouted “I KNEW IT, I knew it! Now pay, Hopper!”

 

Only later on, as Eoin collected his winnings from the bet they had apparently made back in the start of 2011, Colin and Bradley realized they had been holding hands ever since the countdown ended.

 

Around 3 a.m., in the middle of one of Eoin’s never ending bizarre tales, Colin had turned to Bradley and showed him his phone. There, written in a few lines was the most terrifying message he had ever read.

 

“Happy birthday, dearest son. Your birthday present is this: we know you’re with Bradley. We are very happy for you. It was a shock at first but now we understand. Show him this message when you receive it. Bradley, you better love our boy like he deserves to be loved, if not, we’ll make you pay. The Northern Irish never forget. P.S. Welcome to the family. With love, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. And Neil, because he was the one who figured it out back in early 2012.”

 

Colin simply smiled his semi-drunk smile and leaned in for a kiss. Bradley closed his eyes and ignored the whistles from his friends.

 

Now he understood that being in love was burning. But loving, real love without reserves was nothing more than giving in.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough for reading it all through the end. Writing this was a real pleasure and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to comment.  
> Thank you again for reading.


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